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The Bow of Orange 
Ribbon 

A ROMANCE OF NEW YORK 

By 

AMELIA E. BARR 



New York 

Dodd, Mead and Company 
Publishers 



Copyright, i866j 

BY 

DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, 






CONTENTS 


OHAPTER page 

I. The Van Heemskirks 3 

II. Love’s Hour 19 

III. Oranje Boven 37 

IV. Joy in the House 59 

V. The Beginning of Strife 78 

VI. At the Sword’s Point loi 

VII. At “The King’s Arms” 120 

VIII. “The Silver Link, the Silken Tie”. . 146 

IX. Katherine’s Decision 176 

X. Popular Opinion 201 

XL At Hyde Manor, and Bram and Miriam . 225 

XI I . London Life 248 

XIII. The Turn of the Tide 270 

XIV. The Bow of Orange Ribbon . . 284 

XV. Turning Westward 299 

XVI. For Freedom’s Sake 323 

Postscript • 345 


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1 


THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

A ROMANCE OF NEW YORK 
$ 

CHAPTER I 

THE VAN HEEMSKIRKS 

“The tender grace of a day that is dead/' 

“ Love, that old song, of which the world is never weary." 

I T was one of those beautiful, lengthening days, 
when May was pressing back with both hands 
the shades of the morning and the evening; May 
in New York one hundred and twenty-one years 
ago, and yet the May of a. d. 1886-7-the same clear 
air and wind, the same rarefied freshness, full of 
faint, passing aromas from the wet earth and the 
salt sea and the blossoming gardens. For on the 
shore of the East River the gardens still sloped 
down, even to below Peck Slip; and behind old 
Trinity, the apple trees blossomed like bridal nose- 
gays, the pear trees rose in immaculate pyramids, 
and here and .there cows were coming up heavily 
to the scattered houses ; the lazy, intermitting tinkle 
of their bells giving a pleasant notice of their ap- 
proach to the waiting milking-women. 

In the city the business of the day was over; 

a 


THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


4 

but, at the open doors of many of the shops, little 
groups of apprentices in leather aprons were talk- 
ing, and on the broad steps of the City Hall a 
number of grave-looking men were slowly separat- 
ing after a very satisfactory civic session. They 
had been discussing the marvelous increase of the 
export trade of New York; and some vision of 
their city’s future greatness may have appeared to 
them, for they held themselves with the lofty and 
confident air of wealthy merchants and ^‘members 
of his Majesty’s Council for the Province of New 
York.” 

They were all noticeable men, but Joris Van 
Heemskirk specially so. His bulk was so great 
that it seemed as if he must have been built up: 
it was too much to expect that he had ever been 
a baby. He had a fair, ruddy face, and large, 
firm eyes, and a mouth that was at once strong and 
sweet. And he was also very handsomely dressed. 
The long, stiff skirts of his dark-blue coat were 
lined with satin, his breeches were of black vel- 
vet, his ruffles edged with Flemish lace, his shoes 
clasped with silver buckles, his cocked-hat made of 
the finest beaver. 

With his head a little forward, and his right arm 
across his back, he walked slowly up Wall Street 
into Broadway, and then took a northwesterly di- 
rection toward the river-bank. His home was on 
the outskirts of the city, but not far away; and his 
face lightened as he approached it. It was a hand- 
some house, built of yellow bricks, two stories high. 


THE VAN HEEMSKIRKS 5 

with windows in the roof, and gables sending up 
sharp points skyward. There were weather-cocks 
on the gables, and little round holes below the 
weather-cocks, and small iron cranes below the 
holes, and little windows below the cranes — all 
perfectly useless, but also perfectly picturesque and 
perfectly Dutch. The rooms were large and airy, 
and the garden sloped down to the river-side. It 
had paths bordered by clipped box, and shaded by 
holly and yew trees cut in fantastic shapes. 

In the spring this garden was a wonder of tulips 
and hyacinths and lilacs, of sweet daffodils and 
white lilies. In the summer it was ruddy with 
roses, and blazing with verbenas, and gay with the 
laburnum’s gold cascade. Then the musk carna- 
tions and the pale-slashed pinks exhaled a fragrance 
that made the heart dream idyls. In the autumn 
there was the warm, sweet smell of peaches and 
pears and apples. There were morning-glories in 
riotous profusion, tall hollyhocks, and wonderful 
dahlias. In winter it still had charms — the white 
snow, and the green box and cedar and holly, and 
the sharp descent of its frozen paths to the frozen 
river. Councilor Van Heemskirk’s father had built 
the house and planted the garden, and he had the 
Dutch reverence for a good ancestry. Often he 
sent his thoughts backward to remember how he 
walked by his father’s side, or leaned against his 
mother’s chair, as they told him the tragic tales of 
the old Barneveldt and the hapless De Witts; or 
how his young heart glowed to their memories of 


6 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

the dear fatherland, and the proud march of the 
Batavian republic. 

But this night the mournful glamour of the past 
caught a fresh glory from the dawn of a grander 
day forespoken. ‘‘More than three hundred vessels 
may leave the port of New York this same year,'^ 
he thought. “It is the truth; every man of stand- 
ing says so. — Good evening, Mr. Justice. Good 
evening, neighbors;” and he stood a minute, with 
his hands on his garden-gate, to bow to Justice Van 
Gaasbeeck and to Peter Sluyter, who, with their 
wives, were going to spend an hour or two at Chris- 
topher Laer’s garden. There the women would 
have chocolate and hot waffles, and discuss the new 
camblets and shoes just arrived from England, and 
to be bought at Jacob Kip’s store; and the men 
would have a pipe of Virginia and a glass of hot 
Hollands, and fight over again the quarrel pending 
between the Governor and the Assembly. 

“Men can bear all things but good days,” said 
Peter Sluyter, when they had gone a dozen yards 
in silence : “since Van Heemskirk has a seat in the 
council-room, it is a long way to his hat.” 

“Come, now, he was very civil, Sluyter. He 
bows like a man not used to make a low bow, 
that is all.” 

“Well, well! with time, every one gets into his 
fight place. In the City Hall, I may yet put my 
chair beside his, Van Gaasbeeck.” 

“So say I, Sluyter; and, for the present, it is 
all well as it is.” 


THE VAN HEEMSKIRKS 


7 

This little envious fret of his neighbor lost itself 
outside Joris Van Heemskirk’s home. Within it, 
all was love and content. He quickly divested him- 
self of his fine coat and ruffies, and, in a long 
scarlet vest and a little skull-cap of orange silk, sat 
down to smoke. He had talked a good deal in the 
City Hall, and he was chewing the cud of his wis- 
dom over again. Madam Van Heemskirk under- 
stood that, and she let the good man reconsider 
himself in peace. Besides, this was her busy hour. 
She was giving out the food for the morning’s 
breakfast, and locking up the cupboards, and listen- 
ing to complaints from the kitchen, and making a 
plaster for black Tom’s healing finger. In some 
measure, she prepared all day for this hour, and 
yet there was always something unforeseen to be 
done in it. 

She was a little woman, with clear-cut features, 
and brown hair drawn backward under a cap of lace 
very stiffly starched. Her tight-fitting dress 'of blue 
taffeta was open in front, and looped up behind in 
order to show an elaborately quilted petticoat of 
light blue camblet. Her, white wool stockings were 
clocked with blue, her high-heeled shoes cut very 
low, and clasped with small silver buckles. From 
her trim cap to her trig shoes, she was a pleasant 
and comfortable picture of a happy, domestic wo- 
man ; smiling, peaceful, and easy to live with. 

When the last duty was finished, she let her bunch 
of keys fall with a satisfactory “all done” jingle, 
that made her Joris look at her with a smile. “That 


8 


THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


is so,” she said in answer to it. ‘‘A woman is glad 
when she gets all under lock and key for a few 
hours. Servants are not made without fingers ; and, 
I can tell thee, all the thieves are not yet hung.” 

“That needs no proving, Lysbet. But where, 
then, is Joanna and the little one? And Bram 
should be home ere this. He has staid out late 
more than once lately, and it vexes me. Thou art 
his mother, speak to him.” 

“Bram is good: do not make his bridle too 
short. Katherine troubles me more than Bram. 
She is quiet and thinks much; and when I say, 
‘What art thou thinking of?’ she answers always, 
‘Nothing, mother.’ That is not right. When a girl 
says, ‘Nothing, mother,’ there is something — per- 
haps, indeed, somebody — on her mind.” 

“Katherine is nothing but a child. Who would 
talk love to a girl who has not yet taken her first 
communion ? What you think is nonsense, Lysbet 
but he looked annoyed, and the comfort of his pipe 
was gone. He put it down, and walked to a side- 
door, where he stood a little while, watching the 
road with a fretful anxiety. 

“Why don’t the children come, then ? It is nearly 
dark, and the dew falls; and the river mist I like 
not for them.” 

“For my part, I am not uneasy, Joris. They 
were to drink a dish of tea with Madam Semple, 
and Bram promised to go for them. And, see, they 
are coming; but Bram is not with them, only the 
elder. Now, what can be the matter?” 


THE VAN HEEMSKIRKS 


9 

‘‘For everything, there are more reasons than 
one: if there is a bad reason, Elder Semple will 
be sure to croak about it. I could wish that just 
now he had not come.” 

“But then he is here, and the welcome must be 
given to a caller on the threshold. You know that, 
Joris.” 

“I will not break a good custom.” 

Elder Alexander Semple was a great man in his 
sphere. 

He had a reputation both for riches and god- 
liness, and was scarcely more respected in the 
market-place than he was in the Middle Kirk. And 
there was an old tie between the Semples and the 
Van Heemskirks — a ti^ going back to the days when 
the Scotch Covenanters and the Netherland Con- 
fessors clasped hands as brothers in their “churches 
under the cross.” Then one of the Semples had 
fled for life from Scotland to Holland, and been 
sheltered in the house of a Van Heemskirk; and 
from generation to generation the friendship had 
been continued. So there was much real kindness 
and very little ceremony between the families; and 
the elder met his friend Joris with a grumble about 
having to act as “convoy” for two lasses, when the 
river mist made the duty so unpleasant. 

“Not to say dangerous,” he added, with a forced 
cough. “I hae my plaid and my bonnet on; but a 
coat o’ mail couldna stand mists, that are a vera 
shadow o’ death to an auld man, wi’ a sair short- 
ness o’ the breath.” 


lo THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


“Sit down, elder, near the fire. A glass of hot 
Hollands will take the chill from you.” 

“You are mair than kind, gudewife; and I’ll no 
say but what a sma’ glass is needfu’, what wi’ the 
late hour, and the thick mist — ” 

“Come, come, elder. Mists in every country you 
will find, until you reach the New Jerusalem.” 

“Vera true, but there’s a difference in mists. 
Noo^ a Scotch mist isna at all unhealthy. When 
I was a laddie, I hae been out in them for a week 
thegither, ay, and felt the better o’ them.” He had 
taken off his plaid and bonnet as he spoke; and he 
drew the chair set for him in front of the blazing 
logs, and stretched out his thin legs to the comfort- 
ing heat. 

In the mean time, the girls had gone upstairs to- 
gether; and their footsteps and voices, and Kath- 
erine’s rippling laugh, could be heard distinctly 
through the open doors. Then madam called, “Jo- 
anna!” and the girl came down at once. She was 
tying on her white apron as she entered the room; 
and, at a word from her mother, she began to take 
from the cupboards various Dutch dainties, and 
East Indian jars of fruits and sweetmeats, and a 
case of crystal bottles, and some fine lemons. She 
was a fair, rosy girl, with a kind, cheerful face, a 
pleasant voice, and a smile that was at once inno- 
cent and bright. Her fine light hair was rolled high 
and backward; and no one could have imagined a 
dress more suitable to her than the trig dark bodice, 
the quilted skirt, and the white apron she wore. 


THE VAN HEEMSKIRKS 


II 


Her father and mother watched her with a lov- 
ing satisfaction ; and though Elder Semple was dis- 
coursing on that memorable dispute between the 
Csetus and Conferentie parties, which had resulted 
in the establishment of an independent Dutch church 
in America, he was quite sensible of Joanna’s pres- 
ence, and of what she was doing. 

was ay for the ordaining o’ American min- 
isters in America,” he said, as he touched the finger 
tips of his left hand with those of his right; and 
then in an aside full of personal interest, “JosLum, 
my dearie. I’ll hae a Holland bloater and nae other 
thing. — And I was a proud man when I got the 
invite to be secretary to the first meeting o’ the new 
Caetus. Maybe it is praising green barley to say 
just yet that it was a wise departure; but I think 
sae, I think sae.” 

At this point, Katherine Van Heemskirk came 
into the room; and the elder slightly moved his 
chair, and said, “Come awa’, my bonnie lassie, and 
let us hae a look at you.” And Katherine laugh- 
ingly pushed a stool toward the fire, and sat down 
between the two men on the hearthstone. She was 
the daintiest little Dutch maiden that ever latched 
a shoe — very diminutive, with a complexion like a 
sea-shell, great blue eyes, and such a quantity of 
pale yellow hair, that it made light of its ribbon 
snood, and rippled over her brow and slender white 
neck in bewildering curls. She dearly loved fine 
clothes ; and she had not removed her visiting dress 
of Indian silk, nor her necklace of amber beads. 


12 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


And in her hands she held a great mass of lilies of 
the valley, which she caressed almost as if they were 
living things. 

‘Tather,’’ she said, nestling close to his side, “look 
at the lilies. How straight they are ! How strong ! 
Oh, the white bells full of sweet scent ! In them put 
your face, father. They smell of the spring.” Her 
fingers could scarcely hold the bunch she had gath- 
ered; and she buried her lovely face in them, and 
then lifted it, with a charming look of delight, and 
the cries of “Oh, oh, how delicious !” 

Long before supper was over. Madam Van 
Heemskirk had discovered that this night Elder 
Semple had a special reason for his call. His talk 
of Mennon and the Anabaptists and the objection- 
able Lutherans, she perceived, was all surface talk; 
and when the meal was finished, and the girls gone 
to their room, she was not astonished to hear him 
say, “Joris, let us light another pipe. I hae some- 
thing to speak anent. — Sit still, gudewife, we shall 
want your word on the matter.” 

“On what matter, elder?” 

“Anent a marriage between my son Neil and 
your daughter Katherine.” 

The words fell with a sharp distinctness, not 
unkindly, but as if they were more than common 
words. They were followed by a marked silence, 
a silence which in no way disturbed Semple. He 
knew his friends well, and therefore he expected it. 
He puffed his pipe slowly, and glanced at Joris and 
Lysbet Van Heemskirk. The father’s face had not 


THE VAN HEEMSKIRKS 


13 


moved a muscle ; the mother’s was like a handsome 
closed book. She went on with her knitting, and 
only showed that she had heard the proposal by a 
small pretense of finding it necessary to count the 
stitches in the heel she was turning. Still, there 
had been some faint, evanescent flicker on her face, 
some droop or lift of the eyelids, which Joris un- 
derstood ; for, after a glance at her, he said slowly, 
“For Katherine the marriage would be good, and 
Lysbet and I would like it. However, we will think 
a little about it; there is time, and to spare. One 
should not run on a new road. The first step is 
what I like to be sure of; as you know, elder, to 
the second step it often binds you. — Say what you 
think, Lysbet.” 

“Neil is to my mind, when the time comes. But 
yet the child knows not perfectly her Heidelberg. 
And there is more : she must learn to help her 
mother about the house before she can manage a 
house of her own. So in time, I say, it would be 
a good thing. We have been long good friends.” 

“We hae been friends for four generations, and 
we may safely tie the knot tighter now. There 
are wise folk that say the Dutch and the Lowland 
Scotch are of the same stock, and a vera gude 
stock it is — the women o’ baith being fair as lilies 
and thrifty as bees, and the men just a wonder o’ 
everything wise and weel-spoken o’. Forbye, baith 
o’ us — Scotch and Dutch — are strict Protestors. 
The Lady o’ Rome never threw dust in our een, 
and neither o’ us would put our noses to the 


14 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

ground for either powers spiritual or powers tem- 
poral. When I think o’ our John Knox — ” 

“First came Erasmus, elder.” 

“Surely. Well, well, it was about wedding and 
housekeeping I came to speak, and we’ll hae it oot. 
The land between this place and my place, on the 
river-side, is your land, Joris. Give it to Katherine, 
and I will build the young things a house; and the 
furnishing and plenishing we’ll share between us.” 

“There is more to a wedding than house and 
land, elder.” 

“Vera true, madam. There’s the income to meet 
the outgo. Neil has a good practise now, and is 
like to have better. They’ll be comfortable and re- 
spectable, madam ; but I think well o’ you for speer- 
ing after the daily bread.” 

“Well, look now, it was not the bread-making 
I was thinking about. It was the love-making. A 
young girl should be wooed before she is married. 
You know how it is; and Katherine, the little one, 
she thinks not of such a thing as love and marriage.” 

“Wha kens what thoughts are under curly locks 
at seventeen? You’ll hae noticed, madam, that 
Katherine has come mair often than ordinar’ to 
Semple House lately?” 

“That is so. It was because of Colonel Gordon’s 
wife, who likes Katherine. She is teaching her a 
new stitch in her crewel-work.” 

“Hum — m — m ! Mistress Gordon has likewise a 
nephew, a vera handsome lad. I hae seen that he 
takes a deal o’ interest in the crewel-stitch likewise. 


THE VAN HEEMSKIRKS 


15 

And Neil has seen it too — for Neil has set his heart 
on Katherine — and this afternoon there was a look 
passed between the young men I dinna like. We’ll 
be haeing a challenge, and twa fools playing at mur- 
der, next.” 

‘'I am glad you spoke, elder. Thank you. I’ll 
turn your words over in my heart.” But Van 
Heemskirk was under a certain constraint: he was 
beginning to understand the situation, to see in 
what danger his darling might be. He was ap- 
parently calm; but an angry fire was gathering in 
his eyes, and stern lines settling about the lower part 
of his face. 

“You ken,” answered Semple, who felt a trifle 
uneasy in the sudden constraint, “I hae little skill 
in the ordering o’ girl bairns. The Almighty 
thought them beyond my guiding, and I must say 
they are a great charge, a great charge; and, wi’ 
all my infirmities and simplicity — anent women — 
one that would hae been mair than I could hae kept. 
But I hae brought up my lads in a vera creditable 
way. They know how to manage their business, 
and they hae the true religion. I am sure Neil 
would make a good husband, and I would be glad 
to hae him settled near by. My three eldest lads 
hae gone far off, Joris, as you ken.” 

“I remember. Two went to the Virginia 
Colony—” 

“To Norfolk — tobacco brokers, and making 
money. My son Alexander — a wise lad — went 
to Boston, and is in the African trade. I may say 


i6 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


that they are all honest, pious men, without wish- 
ing to be martyrs for honesty and piety, which, in- 
deed, in these days is mercifully not called for. As 
for Neil, he’s our last bairn; and his mother and I 
would fain keep him near us. Katherine would be 
a welcome daughter to our auld age, and weel 
loved, and much made o’ ; and I hope baith Madam 
Van Heemskirk and yoursel’ will think with us.” 

‘‘We have said we would like the marriage. It 
is the truth. But, look now, Katherine shall not 
come any more to your house at this time, not while 
English soldiers come and go there; for I will not 
have her speak to one : they are no good for us.” 

“That is right for you, but not for me. My wife 
was a Gordon, and we couldn’t but offer our house 
to a cousin in a strange country. And you’ll find 
few better men than Colonel Nigel Gordon; as for 
his wife, she’s a fine English leddy, and I hae little 
knowledge anent such women. But a Scot canna 
kithe a kindness: if I gie Colonel Gordon a share 
o’ my house, I must e’en show a sort o’ hospitality 
to his friends and visitors. And the colonel’s wife 
is much thought o’, in the regiment and oot o’ it. 
She has a sight o’ good company — young officers 
and bonnie leddies, and some o’ the vera best o’ our 
ain people.” 

“There it is. I want not my daughters to learn 
new ways. There are the Van Voorts : they began 
to dine and dance at the governor’s house, and then 
they went to the English Church.” 

“They were Lutherans to begin wi’, Joris.” 


THE VAN HEEMSKIRKS 


17 

‘‘My Lysbet is the finest lady in the whole land: 
let her daughters walk in her steps. That is what 
I want. But Neil can come here : I will make him 
welcome, and a good girl is to be courted on her 
father’s hearth. Now, there is enough said, and 
also there is some one coming.” 

“It will be Neil and Bram;” and, as the words 
were spoken, the young men entered. 

“Again you are late, Bram;” and the father 
looked curiously in his son’s face. It was like 
looking back upon his own youth; for Bram Van 
Heemskirk had all the physical traits of his father 
— his great size, his commanding presence and 
winning address, his large eyes, his deep, sono- 
rous voice and slow speech. He was well dressed 
in light-colored broadcloth, but Neil Semple wore 
a coat and breeches of black velvet, with a long 
satin vest, and fine small ruffles. He was tall and 
swarthy, and had a pointed, rather sombre face. 
Without speaking much in the way of conversation, 
he left an impression always of intellectual adroit- 
ness — a young man of whom people expected a suc- 
cessful career. 

With the advent of Bram and Neil, the consulta- 
tion ended. The elder, grumbling at the chill and 
mist, wrapped himself in his plaid, and, leaning on 
his son’s arm, cautiously picked his way home by 
the light of a lantern. Bram drew his chair to the 
hearth, and sat silently waiting for any question his 
father might wish to ask. But Van Heemskirk was 
not inclined to talk. He put aside his pipe, nodded 


i8 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


gravely to his son, and went thoughtfully upstairs. 
At the closed door of his daughter’s room, he stood 
still a moment. There was a murmur of conversa- 
tion within it, and a ripple of quickly smothered 
laughter. How well his soul could see the child, 
with her white, small hands over her mouth, and 
her bright hair scattered upon the white pillow! 

'"Ach, mijn kind, mijn kind! Mijn liefste kindT 
he whispered. ‘‘God Almighty keep thee from sin 
and sorrow!” 


CHAPTER II 


love's hour 

“To be a sweetness more desired than spring,— 

This is the flower of life.” 

“Deep in the sun-searched growth the dragon-fly 
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky: 

So this winged hour is dropped to us from above. 
Oh, clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower. 

This close-companioned, inarticulate hour 

When twofold silence was the song of love !” 

J ORIS VAN HEEMSKIRK had not thought of 
prayer; but, in his vague fear and apprehension, 
his soul beat at his lips, and its natural language 
had been that appeal at his daughter's closed door. 
For Semple's words had been like a hand lifting the 
curtain in a dark room : only a clouded and uncer- 
tain light had been thrown, but in it even familiar 
objects looked portentous. In these days, the tend- 
ency is to tone down and to assimilate, to deprecate 
everything positive and demonstrative. But Joris 
lived when the great motives of humanity stood 
out sharp and bold, and surrounded by a religious 
halo. 

Many of his people had begun to associate with 
the governing race, to sit at their banquets, and 
even to worship in their church; but Joris, in his 
19 


20 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


heart, looked upon such ‘‘indifferents’" as renegades 
to their God and their fatherland. He was a 
Dutchman, soul and body; and no English duke 
was prouder of his line, or his royal quarterings, 
than was Joris Van Heemskirk of the race of sail- 
ors and patriots from whom he had sprung. 

Through his father, he clasped hands with men 
who had swept the narrow seas with De Ruyter, 
and sailed into arctic darkness and ice-fields with 
Van Heemskirk. Farther back, among that mys- 
terious, legendary army of patriots called “The 
Beggars of the Sea,’' he could proudly name his 
foregoers — rough, austere men, covered with scars, 
who followed Willemsen to the succor of Leyden. 
The likeness of one of them, Adrian Van Heems- 
kirk, was in his best bedroom — the big, square form 
wrapped in a pea-jacket; a crescent in his hat, with 
the device, ‘'Rather Turk than Papisf’; and upon 
his breast one of those medals, still hoarded in the 
Low Countries, which bore the significant words, 
“In defiance of the MassP 

He knew all the stories of these men — how, forti- 
fied by their natural bravery, and by their Calvinistic 
acquiescence in the purposes of Providence, they put 
out to sea in any weather, braved any danger, fought 
their enemies wherever they found them, worked like 
beavers behind their dams, and yet defiantly flung 
open their sluice-gates, and let in the ocean, to drown 
out their enemies. 

Through his mother, a beautiful Zealand woman, 
he was related to the Evertsens, the victorious ad- 


LOVERS HOUR 


21 


mirals of Zealand, and also to the great mercantile 
family of Doversteghe; and he thought the enter- 
prise of the one as honorable as the valor of the 
other. Beside the sailor pictures of Cornelius and 
Jan Evertsen, and the famous ‘‘Keesje the Devil,’’ 
he hung sundry likenesses of men with grave, calm 
faces, proud and lofty of aspect, dressed in rich 
black velvet and large wide collars — merchants who 
were every inch princes of commerce and industry. 

These lines of thought, almost tedious to indi- 
cate, flashed hotly and vividly through his mind. 
The likes and dislikes, the faiths and aspirations, 
of past centuries, colored the present moments, as 
light flung through richly stained glass has its white 
radiance tinged by it. The feeling of race — that 
strong and mysterious tie which no time nor circum- 
stances can eradicate — was so living a motive in 
Joris Van Heemskirk’s heart, that he had been quite 
conscious of its appeal when Semple spoke of a 
marriage between Katherine and his own son. And 
Semple had understood this, when he so cunningly 
insinuated a common stock and a common form of 
faith. For he had felt instinctively, that even the 
long tie of friendship between them was hardly 
sufficient to bridge over the gulf of different 
nationalities. 

Then, Katherine was Van Heemskirk’s darling, 
the very apple of his eye. He felt angry that already 
there should be plans laid to separate her in any 
way from him. His eldest daughters, Cornelia and 
Anna, had married men of substance in Esopus and 


22 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


Albany : he knew they had done well for themselves, 
and had become contented in that knowledge ; but he 
also felt that they were far away from his love and 
home. Joanna was already betrothed to Captain 
Batavius de Vries; Bram would doubtless find him- 
self a wife very soon : for a little while, he had cer- 
tainly hoped to keep Katherine by his own side. 
Semple, in speaking of her as already marriageable, 
had given him a shock. It seemed such a few years 
since he had walked her to sleep at nights, cradled 
in his strong arms, close to his great, loving heart; 
such a little while ago when she toddled about the 
garden at his side, her plump white hands holding 
his big forefinger ; only yesterday that she had been 
going to the school, with her spelling-book and 
Heidelberg in her hand. When Lysbet had spoken 
to him of the English lady staying with Madam 
Semple, who was teaching Katherine the new 
crewel-stitch, it had appeared to him quite proper 
that such a child should be busy learning something 
in the way of needlework. ‘‘Needlework’" had been 
given as the reason of those visits, which he now 
remembered had been very frequent; and he was 
so absolutely truthful, that he never imagined the 
word to be in any measure a false definition. 

Therefore, Elder Semple’s implication had 
stunned him like a buffet. In his own room, he 
sat down on a big oak chest; and, as he thought, 
his wrath slowly gathered. Semple knew that gay 
young English officers were coming and going 
about his house, and he had not told him until he 


LOVES HOUR 


23 


feared they would interfere with his own plans for 
keeping Neil near to him. The beautiful little 
Dutch maiden had been an attraction which he was 
proud to exhibit, just as he was proud of his im- 
ported furniture, his pictures, and his library. He 
remembered that Semple had spoken with touching 
emphasis of his longing to keep his last son near 
home ; but must he give up his darling Katherine to 
further this plan? 

‘T like not it,” he muttered. ‘'God for the Dutch- 
man made the Dutchwoman. That is the right way ; 
but I will not make angry myself for so much of 
passion, so much of nothing at all to the purpose. 
That is the truth. Always I have found it so.” 

Then Lysbet, having finished her second locking 
up, entered the room. She came in as one wearied 
and troubled, and said with a sigh, as she untied 
her apron, “By the girls’ bedside I stopped one min- 
ute. Dear me! when one is young, the sleep is 
sound.” 

“Well, then, they were awake when I passed — 
that is not so much as one-quarter of the hour — 
talking and laughing : I heard them.” 

“And now they are fast in sleep : their heads are 
on one pillow, and Katherine’s hand is fast clasped 
in Joanna’s hand. The dear ones ! Joris, the elder’s 
words have made trouble in my heart. What did 
the man mean?” 

“Who can tell ? What a man says, we know ; but 
only God understands what he means. But I will 
say this, Lysbet, and it is what I mean: if Semple 


24 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

has led my daughter into the way of temptation, 
then, for all that is past and gone, we shall be 
unfriends/’ 

‘‘Give yourself no kontmer on that matter, Joris. 
Why should not our girls see what kind of people 
the world is made of ? Have not some of our best 
maidens married into the English set? And none 
of them were as beautiful as Katherine. There is 
no harm, I think, in a girl taking a few steps up 
when she puts on the wedding-ring.” 

“Mean you that our little daughter should marry 
some English good-for-nothing ? Look, then, I 
would rather see her white and cold in the dead- 
chamber. In a word, I will have no Englishman 
among the Van Heemskirks. There, let us sleep. 
To-night I will speak no more.” 

But madam could not sleep. She was quite sensi- 
ble that she had tacitly encouraged Katherine’s visits 
to Semple House, even after she understood that 
Captain Hyde and other fashionable and notable 
persons were frequent visitors there. In her heart, 
she had dreamed such dreams of social advancement 
for her daughters as most mothers encourage. Her 
prejudices were less deep than those of her husband; 
or, perhaps, they were more powerfully combated 
by her greater respect for the pomps and vanities 
of life. She thought rather well than ill of those 
people of her own race and class who had made 
themselves a place in the most exclusive ranks. 
During the past ten years there had been great 
changes in New York’s social life: many families 


LOVERS HOUR 


25 


had become very wealthy, and there was a rapidly 
growing tendency to luxurious and splendid living. 
Lysbet Van Heemskirk saw no reason why her 
younger children should not move with this cur- 
rent, when it might set them among the growing 
aristocracy of the New World. 

She tried to recall Katherine’s demeanor and 
words during the past day, and she could find no 
cause for alarm in them. True, the child had spent 
a long time in arranging her beautiful hair, and she 
had also begged from her the bright amber neck- 
lace that had been her own girlish pride ; but what 
then ? It was so natural, especially when there was 
likely to be fine young gentlemen to see them. She 
could not remember having noticed anything at all 
which ought to make her uneasy; and what Lysbet 
did not see or hear, she could not imagine. 

Yet the past ten hours had really been full of 
danger to the young girl. Early in the afternoon, 
some hours before Joanna was ready to go, Kath- 
erine was dressed for her visit to Semple House. 
It was the next dwelling to the Van Heemskirks’ 
on the river-bank, about a quarter of a mile distant, 
but plainly in sight; and this very proximity gave 
the mother a sense of security for her children. It 
was a different house from the Dutchman’s — one 
of those great square, plain buildings, so common 
in the Georgian era — not at all picturesque, but 
finished inside with handsomely carved woodwork, 
and with mirrors and wall-papering brought spe- 
cially for it from England. 


26 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


It stood, like Van Heemskirk’s, at the head of 
a garden sloping to the river ; and there was a good 
deal of pleasant rivalry about these gardens, both 
proprietors having impressed their own individual- 
ity upon their pleasure-grounds. Semple’s had 
nothing of the Dutchman’s glowing prettiness and 
quaintness — no clipped yews and hollies, no fanci- 
ful flower-beds and little Gothic summer-house. Its 
slope was divided into three fine terraces, the de- 
scent from one to the other being by broad, low 
steps ; the last flight ending on a small pier, to which 
the pleasure and fishing boats were fastened. These 
terraced walks were finely shaded and adorned with 
shrubs ; and on the main one there was a stone sun- 
dial, with a stone seat around it. Van Heemskirk 
did not think highly of Semple’s garden ; and Sem- 
ple was sure, “that, in the matter o’ flowers and 
fancy clippings. Van Heemskirk had o’er much o’ 
a gude thing.” But still the rivalry had always 
been a good-natured one, and, in the interchange 
of bulbs and seeds, productive of much friendly 
feeling. 

The space between the two houses was an en- 
closed meadow; and this afternoon, the grass being 
warm and dry, and full of wild flowers, Katherine 
followed the narrow foot-path through it, and en- 
tered the Semple garden by the small side gate. 
Near this gate was a stone dairy, sunk below the 
level of the ground — a deliciously cool, clean spot, 
even in the hottest weather. Passing it, she saw 
that the door was open, and Madam Semple was 


LOVERS HOUR 


27 


busy among its large, shallow, pewter cream-dishes. 
Lifting her dainty silk skirts, she went down the 
few steps, and stood smiling and nodding in the 
doorway. Madam was beating some rich curd with 
eggs and currants and spices; and Katherine, with 
a sympathetic smile, asked delightedly : 

‘‘Cheesecakes, madam ?” 

“Just cheesecakes, dearie.” 

“Oh, I am glad! Joanna is coming, too, only 
she had first some flax to unplait. Wait for her, 
I could not. Let me fill some of these pretty little 
patty-pans.” 

“ril do naething o’ the kind, Katherine. You’d 
be spoiling the bonnie silk dress you hae put on. 
Go to the house and sit wi’ Mistress Gordon. She 
was asking for you no’ an hour ago. And, Kath- 
erine, my bonnie lassie, dinna gie a thought to one 
word that black-eyed nephew o’ her’s may say to 
you. He’s here the day and gane to-morrow, and 
the lasses that heed him will get sair hearts to 
themsel’s.” 

The bright young face shadowed, and a sud- 
den fear came into Madam Semple’s heart as she 
watched the girl turn thoughtfully and slowly 
away. The blinds of the house were closed against 
the afternoon sun; but the door stood open, and 
the wide, dim stairway was before her. All was 
as silent as if she had entered an enchanted castle. 
And on the upper hall the closed doors, and the 
soft lights falling through stained glass upon the 
dark, rich carpets, made an element of mystery. 


28 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

vague and charmful, to which Katherine's sensitive, 
childlike nature was fully responsive. 

Slowly she pushed back a heavy mahogany door, 
and entered a large room, whose richly wainscoted 
walls, heavy friezes, and beautifully painted ceiling 
were but the most obvious points in its general mag- 
nificence. On a lounge covered with a design done 
in red and blue tent stitch, an elegantly dressed 
woman was sitting, reading a novel. ‘‘The Girl 
of Spirit," “The Fair Maid of the Inn," “The 
Curious Impertinent," and other favorite tales of 
the day, were lying upon an oval table at her 
side. 

“La, child!" she cried, “come here and give me 
a kiss. So you wear that sweet-fancied suit again. 
You are the most agreeable creature in it; though 
Dick vows upon his sword-hilt that you look a hun- 
dred times more bewitching in the dress you wore 
this morning." 

“How? This morning, madam? This morning 
Captain Hyde did not see me at all." 

“Pray don’t blush so, child; though, indeed, it 
is vastly becoming. I do assure you he saw you 
this morning. He had gone out early to take the 
air, and he had a most transporting piece of good 
fortune: for he bethought himself to walk under 
the great trees nearly opposite your house; and 
when you came to the door, with your excellent 
father, he noted all, from the ribbon on your head 
to the buckles on your shoes. His talk now is of 
nothing but your short quilted petticoat, and your 


LOVES HOUR 


29 

tight bodice, and beautiful bare arms. Is that the 
Dutch style, then, child? It must be extremely 
charming.” 

‘‘If my mother you could see in it! She is beau- 
tiful. And we have a picture of my grandmother 
in the true Zealand dress. Like a princess she looks, 
my father says; but, indeed, I have never seen a 
princess.” 

“My dear, you must allow me to laugh a little. 
Will you believe it, princesses are sometimes very 
vulgar creatures? I am sure, however, that your 
grandmother was very genteel and agreeable. I 
must tell you that I have just received my new scarf 
from London. You shall see it, and give me your 
opinion.” 

“Oh, madam, you are very kind! What is it 
like?” 

“It is all extravagance in mode and fancy. I 
believe, my dear, there are two hundred yards of 
edging on it ; and it has the most enchanting slope 
to the shoulders. I am wonderfully pleased with it, 
and hope it will prove becoming.” 

“Indeed, I think all your suits are becoming.” 

“Faith, child, I think they are. I have always 
dressed with the most perfect intelligence. I fol- 
low all the fashions, and they must be French. La, 
here comes Richard! He is going to ask you to 
take a sail on the river; and I shall lend you my 
new green parasol. I do believe it is the only one 
in the country.” 

“I came to sit with you, and work with my wor- 


30 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

steds. Perhaps my mother — might not like me to 
go on the river with — any one.” 

‘Tray, child, don’t be affected. ‘My moth^ — 
might not like me to go on the river with — any 
one ” and she mimicked Katherine so cleverly that 
the girl’s face burned with shame and annoyance. 

But she had no time to defend herself; for, 
with his cavalry cap in his hand, and a low bow. 
Captain Hyde entered the room; and Katherine’s 
heart throbbed in her cheeks, and she trembled, 
and yet withal dimpled into smiles, like clear water 
in the sunshine. In a few minutes afterward she 
was going down the terrace steps with him; and 
he was looking into her face with shining eyes, and 
whispering the commonest words in such an en- 
chanting manner that it seemed to her as if her feet 
scarcely touched the low, white steps, and she was 
some sort of glorified Katherine Van Heemskirk, 
who never, never, never could be unhappy again. 

They did not go on the river. Captain Hyde 
hated exertion. His splendid uniform was too tight 
to row in. He did not want a third party near, in 
any capacity. The lower steps were shaded by 
great water beeches, and the turf under them was 
green and warm. There was the scent of lilies 
around, the song of birds above, the ripple of water 
among pebbles at their feet. A sweeter hour, a 
lovelier maid, man could never hope to find; and 
Captain Hyde was not one to neglect his oppor- 
tunity. 

“Let us stay here, my beloved,” he whispered. 


LOVERS HOUR 


31 

‘‘I have something sweet to tell you. Upon mine 
honor, I can keep my secret no longer.” 

The innocent child! Who could blame her for 
listening to it? — at first with a little fear and a lit- 
tle reluctance, but gradually resigning her whole 
heart to the charm of his soft syllables and his fer- 
vent manner, until she gave him the promise he 
begged for — love that was to be for him alone, 
love for him alone among all the sons of men. 

What an enchanted afternoon it was! how all 
too quickly it fled away, one golden moment after 
another ! and what a pang it gave her to find at the 
end there must be lying and deception ! For, some- 
how, she had been persuaded to acquiesce in her 
lover’s desire for secrecy. As for the lie, he told it 
with the utmost air of candor. 

'‘Yes, we had a beautiful sail; and how enchant- 
ing the banks above here are ! Aunt, I am at your 
service to-morrow,, if you wish to see them.” 

"Oh, your servant, captain, but I am an indiffer- 
ent sailor; and I trust I have too much respect for 
myself and my new frocks, to crowd them into a 
river cockboat!” 

In a few minutes Joanna and the elder came in. 
He had called for her on his way home ; for he liked 
the society of the young and beautiful, and there 
were many hours in which he thought Joanna fairer 
than her sister. Then tea was served in a pretty 
parlor with Turkish walls and colored windows, 
which, being open into the garden, framed lovely 
living pictures of blossoming trees. Every one was 


32 THE DOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

eating and drinking, laughing and talking : so Kath- 
erine's unusual silence was unnoticed, except by 
the elder, who indeed saw and heard everything, 
and who knew what he did not see and hear by that 
kind of prescience to which wise and observant 
years attain. He saw that the cakes Katherine 
dearly loved remained upon her plate untasted, and 
that she was unusually, suspiciously quiet. 

After tea he walked down the garden with Colo- 
nel Gordon. The lily bed was near the river ; and 
he made the gathering of some lilies for Katherine 
an excuse for going close enough to the pier to 
see how the boat lay, and whether the oars had 
been moved from the exact position in which he 
had placed them. And he found the boat rocking 
at its moorings, tied with his own peculiar knot. 
It told him everything, and he was sincerely trou- 
bled at the discovery. 

'Tove and lying," he mused. ‘T wonder why 
they are ever such thick friends. As for Dick Hyde, 
lying is his native tongue; but if Katherine Van 
Heemskirk has been ay one thing above another, 
it was to tell the truth. It ought to come easy to 
her likewise, for I’ll say the same o’ the hale nation 
o’ Dutchmen. I dinna think Joris would tell a lie 
to save baith life and fortune.’’ 

He looked at Katherine almost sternly when he 
went back to the house; though he gave her the 
lilies, and bid her keep her soul sweet and pure as 
their white bells. She was sitting by Mistress Gor- 
don s side, in one of those tall-backed Dutch chairs. 


LOVES HOUR 


33 

whose very blackness and straightness threw into 
high relief her own undulating roundness and mo- 
bility, the glowing colors of her Indian silk gown, 
the shining amber against her white throat, and the 
picturesque curl and flow of her fair hair. Captain 
Hyde sat opposite, bending toward her; and his 
aunt reclined upon the couch, and watched them 
with a singular look of speculation in her half-shut 
eyes. 

Joanna was talking to Neil Semple in the recess 
of a window; but Neil’s face was white with sup- 
pressed anger, and, though he seemed to be listen- 
ing to her, his eyes — full of passion — were fixed 
upon Hyde. Perhaps the young soldier was con- 
scious of it; for he occasionally addressed some 
trivial remark to him, as if to prevent Neil losing 
sight of the advantages he had over him. 

“The vera air o’ this room is gunpowdery,” 
thought the elder; “and ane or the other will be 
flinging a spark o’ passion into it, and then the deil 
will be to pay. O’er many women here! O’er 
many women here! One is enough in any house. 
I’ll e’en tak’ the lasses hame mysel’; and I’ll speak 
to Joris for his daughter — as good now as any 
other time.” 

Then he said in his blandest tones, “Joanna, my 
dearie, you’ll hae to tell Neil the rest o’ your tale 
the morn; and, Katherine, put awa’ now that bit 
o’ busy idleness, and don your hoods and mantles, 
baith o’ you. I’m going to tak’ you hame, and I 
dinna want to get my deathe wi’ the river mist.” 


34 the bow of orange RIBBON 

‘Tray, sir,’’ said Hyde, “consider me at your ser- 
vice. I have occasion to go into town at once, and 
will do your duty to the young ladies with infinite 
pleasure.” 

“Much obliged, captain, vera much obliged; but 
it tak’s an auld wise-headed, wise-hearted man like 
myseh to walk safely atween twa bonnie lassies;” 
then turning to his son, he added: “Neil, my lad, 
put your beaver on, and go and find Bram. You 
can tell him, as he didna come to look after his 
sisters afore this hour, he needna come at a’.” 

“Do you know, father, where Bram is likely to 
be found ?” 

“Hum-m-m! As if you didna know yoursel’! 
He will dootless be among that crowd o’ young 
wiseacres wha are certain the safety o’ the Prov- 
inces is in their keeping. It’s the young who ken 
a’ things, ken mair than councils and assemblies, 
and king and parliament, thegither.’' 

Colonel Gordon laughed. “Never mind, sir,” he 
said, “they let the army alone, and the church: so 
you and I need hardly alarm ourselves — ” 

“I’m no sure o’ that, colonel. When it comes to 
the army, it’s a mere question o’ wha can strike the 
hardest blows ; and as to kirk matters. I’m thinking 
men had better meddle wi’ the things o’ God, which 
they canna change, than wi’ those o’ the king, wi’ 
which they can wark a deal o’ mischief.” 

While he was speaking, Neil left the room. The 
little argument struck him as a pretext and a cover, 
and he was glad to escape from a position which he 


35 


LOVES HOUR 

felt to be both painful and humiliating. He was in 
a measure Captain Hyde’s host, and subject to tra- 
ditions regarding the duties of that character: any 
display of anger would be derogatory to him, and 
yet how difficult was restraint! So his father’s in- 
terference was a welcome one; and he was recon- 
ciled to his own disappointment, when, looking 
back, he saw the old gentleman slowly taking the 
road to Van Heemskirk’s, with the pretty girls in 
their quilted red hoods, one on each side of him. 

The elder was very polite to his charges : he never 
once regretted to them the loss of his pipe and chat 
with Colonel Gordon. But he noticed that Kath- 
erine was silent and disappointed, and that she lin- 
gered in her own room after her arrival at home. 
Her subsequent pretty cheerfulness, her delight in 
her lilies, her confiding claims upon her father’s 
love — nothing in these things deceived him. He 
saw beneath all the fluttering young heart, trem- 
bling, and yet happy in the new, sweet feeling, never 
felt before, which had come to it that afternoon. 

But he thought most girls had to have this initia- 
tive: it prepared the way for a soberer and more 
lasting affection. In the end, Katherine would per- 
ceive how imprudent, how impossible, a marriage 
with Captain Hyde must be; and her heart would 
turn back to Neil, who had been her lover from 
boyhood. Yet, he reflected, it would be well to 
have the matter understood, and to give it that 
'‘possibility” which is best attained on a money 
basis. 


36 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

So while he and the Van Heemskirks discussed 
the matter — a little reluctantly, he thought, on their 
part — Katherine talked with Joanna of the Gordons. 
Her heart was so full of her lover that it was a re- 
lief to discuss the people and things nearest to him. 
And her very repression excited her. She toyed 
with her cambric kerchief before the small looking- 
glass, and imitated the fashionable English lady 
with a piquant cleverness that provoked low peals 
of laughter, and a retrospective discussion of the 
evening, which was merry enough, without being 
in the least ill-natured. 

But, oh, in what strange solitudes every separate 
soul dwells! When Katherine kissed her sister, 
and said simper ingly, with the highest English 
accent, ‘Ha, child, I protest it has been the most 
agreeable evening,’’ Joanna had not a suspicion of 
the joy and danger that had come to the dear little 
one at her side. She was laughing softly with her, 
even while the fearful father stood at the closed 
door, and lifted up his tender soul in that pathetic 
petition: '^Ach, mijn kind! mijn kind! mijn liefste 
, kind! Almighty God preserve thee from all sin 
and sorrow!” 


CHAPTER III 


ORANJE BOVEN 

*‘The proverb holds, that to be wise and love 
Is hardly granted to the gods above.” 

“Sow an act, and you reap a habit; 

Sow a habit, and you reap a character; 

Sow a character, and you reap a destiny.” 

7ELL, well, to-day goes to its forefathers, 

VV like all the rest; and, as for what comes 
after it, everything is in the love and counsel of 
the Almighty One.” 

This was Joris Van Heemskirk’s last thought ere 
he fell asleep that night, after Elder Semple’s cau- 
tious disclosure and proposition. In his calm, 
methodical, domestic life, it had been an ‘‘eventful 
day.” We say the words often and unreflectingly; 
seldom pausing to consider that such days are the 
results which months, years, perchance centuries, 
have made possible. Thus, a long course of reck- 
less living and reckless gambling, and the conse- 
quent urgent need of ready money, had first made 
Captain Hyde turn his thoughts to the pretty daugh- 
ter of the rich Dutch merchant. 

Madam Semple, in her desire to enhance the im- 
portance of the Van Heemskirks, had mentioned 
more than once the handsome sum of ready money 
37 


38 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

given to each of Katherine’s sisters on their wed- 
ding-day; and both Colonel Gordon and his wife 
had thought of this sum so often, as a relief to their 
nephew’s embarrassments, that it seemed almost as 
much Hyde’s property as if he had been born to 
inherit it. At first Katherine, as its encumbrance, 
had been discussed very heartlessly — she could be 
left in New York when his regiment received march- 
ing orders, if it were thought desirable; or she 
could be taken to England, and settled as mistress 
of Hyde Manor House, a lonely mansion on the 
Norfolk fens, which was so rarely tenanted by the 
family that Hyde had never been there since his 
boyhood. 

“She is a homespun little thing,” laughed the 
colonel’s fashionable wife, “and quite unfit to go 
among people of our condition. But she adores 
you, Dick; and she will be passably happy with a 
house to manage, and a visit from you when you 
can spare the time.” 

“Oh, your servant, aunt! Then I am a very in- 
different judge: for indeed she has much spirit 
below her gentle manner; and, upon my word, I 
think her as fine a creature as you can find in the 
best London society. The task, I assure you, is not 
easy. When Katherine is won, then, in faith, her 
father may be in no hurry of approval. And the 
child is a fair, innocent child : I am very uneasy to 
do her wrong. The ninety-nine plagues of an empty 
purse are to blame for all my ill deeds.” 

“Upon my word, Dick, nothing can be more com- 


ORANJE BOVEN 


39 

mendable than your temper. You make vastly 
proper reflections, sir ; but you are in troubled 
waters — admit it — and this little Dutch craft may 
bring you respectably into harbor.’’ 

It was in this mood that Katherine and her proba- 
ble fortune had been discussed; and thus she was 
but one of the events, springing from lives anterior 
to her own, and very different from it. And causes 
nearly as remote had prepared the way for her ready 
reception of Hyde’s homage, and the relaxation of 
domestic discipline which had trusted her so often 
and so readily in his society — causes which had 
been forgotten, but which had left behind them a 
positive and ever-growing result. When a babe, 
she was remarkably frail and delicate; and this 
circumstance, united to the fact of her being the 
youngest child, had made the whole household very 
tender to her, and she had been permitted a much 
larger portion of her own way than was usually 
given to any daughter in a Dutch family. 

Also, in her father’s case, the motives influencing 
his decision stretched backward through many gen- 
erations. None the less was their influence potent 
to move him. In fact, he forgot entirely to reflect 
how a marriage between his child and Captain 
Hyde would be regarded at that day; his first 
thoughts had been precisely such thoughts as would 
have occurred to a Van Heemskirk living two hun- 
dred years before him. And thus, though we hardly 
remember the fact, it is this awful solidarity of the 
human family which makes the third and fourth 


40 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

generations heirs of their forefathers, and brings 
into every life those critical hours we call ‘‘event- 
ful days.’’ 

Joris, however, made no such reflections. His 
age was not an age inclined to analysis, and he was 
still less inclined to it from a personal standpoint. 
For he was a man of few, but positive, ideas; yet 
these ideas, having once commended themselves to 
his faith or his intelligence, were embraced with all 
his soul. It was this spirit which made him depre- 
cate even religious discussions, so dear to the heart 
of his neighbor. 

“I like them not, elder,” he would say ; “of what 
use are they, then ? The Calvinistic faith is the true 
faith. That is certain. Very well, then: what is 
true does not require to be examined, to see if it 
be true.” 

Semple’s communication regarding Captain Hyde 
and his daughter had aroused in him certain feel- 
ings, and led him to certain decisions. He went to 
sleep, satisfied with their propriety and justice. He 
awoke in precisely the same mood. Then he dressed, 
and went into his garden. It was customary for 
Katherine to join him there; and he frequently 
turned, as he went down the path, to see if she were 
coming. He watched eagerly for the small figure 
in its short quilted petticoat and buckled shoes, and 
the fair, pink face shaded by the large Zealand hat, 
with its long blue ribbons crossed over the back. 
But this morning she did not come. He walked 
alone to his lily bed, and stooped a little forlornly 


ORANJE BOVEN 


41 

to admire the tulips and crocus-cups and little purple 
pansies; but his face brightened when he heard her 
calling him to breakfast, and very soon he saw her 
leaning over the half-door, shading her eyes with 
both her hands, the better to watch his approach. 

Lysbet was already in her place; so was Joanna, 
and also Bram ; and a slim black girl called Dinorah 
was handing around fricasseed chicken and venison 
steaks, hot fritters and johnny-cake; while the rich 
Java berry filled the room with an aroma of tropi- 
cal life, and suggestions of the spice-breathing 
coasts of Sunda. Joris and Bram discussed the 
business of the day; Katherine was full of her visit 
to Semple House the preceding evening. Dinorah 
was no restraint. The slaves Joris owned, like 
those of Abraham, were born or brought up in his 
own household : they held to all the family feelings 
with a faithful, often an unreasonable, tenacity. 

And yet, this morning, Joris waited until Lysbet 
dismissed her handmaid, before he said the words 
he had determined to speak ere he began the work 
of the day. Then he put down his cup with an 
emphasis which made all eyes turn to him, and 
said : 

^^Katryntje, my daughter, call not to-day, nor call 
not any day, until I tell you different, at Madam 
Semple’s. The people who go and come there, I 
like them not. They will be no good to you. — 
Lysbet, what say you in this matter?” 

‘‘What you say, I say, Joris. The father is to be 
obeyed. When he will not, the children can not.” 


42 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

“Joanna, what say you?’' 

“I like best of all things to do your pleasure, 
father.” 

“And you, Bram?” 

“As for me, I think you are very right. I like 
not those English officers — insolent and proud men, 
all of them. It would have been a great pleasure 
to me to strike down the one who yesterday spurned 
with his spurred boot our good neighbor Jacob 
Cohen, for no reason but that he was a Jew — ” 

“Heigho! go softly, Bram. That which burns 
thee not, cool not.” 

“As he passed our store door where I stood, he 
said ‘devil,’ but he meant me.” 

“Only God knows what men mean. — Now, then, 
little one, thy will is my will, is it not ?” 

She had drawn her chair close to her father’s, 
and taken his big hand between her own, and was 
stroking and petting it as he spoke; and, ere she 
answered, she leaned her head upon his breast. 

“Father, I like to see the English lady; and she 
is teaching me the new stitch.” 

^^Schoone Lammetje! There are many other 
things far better for thee to learn; for instance, 
to darn the fine Flemish lace, and to work the 
beautiful ‘clocks’ on thy stockings, and to make 
perfect thy Heidelberg and thy Confession of 
Faith. In these things, the best of all good teachers 
is thy mother.” 

“I can do these things also, father. The lady 
loves me, and will be unhappy not to see me.” 


ORANJE BOVEN 


43 

‘Then, let her come here and see thee. That 
will be the proper thing. Why not? She is not 
better than thou art. Once thy mother has called 
on her; thou and Joanna, a few times too often. 
Now, then, let her call on thee. Always honor thy- 
self, as well as others. That is the Dutch way; 
that is the right way. Mind what I tell thee.” 

His voice had gradually grown sterner; and he 
gently withdrew his hand from her clasp, and rose 
as a man in a hurry, and pressed with affairs: 
“Come, Bram, there is need now of some haste. 
The ‘Sea Hound’ has her cargo, and should sail at 
the noon tide; and, as for the ‘Crowned Bears,’ 
thou knowest there is much to be said and done. I 
hear she left most of her cargo at Perth Amboy. 
Well, well, I have told Jerome Brakel what I think 
of that. It is his own affair.” 

Thus talking, he left the room; and Lysbet in- 
stantly began to order the wants of the house with 
the same air of settled preoccupation. “Joanna,” 
she said, “the linen web in the loom, go and see 
how it is getting on; and the fine napkins must be 
sent to the lawn for the bleaching, and to-day the 
chambers must be aired and swept. The best parlor 
Katherine will attend to.” 

Katherine still sat at the table; her eyes were 
cast down, and she was arranging — without a con- 
sciousness of doing so — her bread crumbs upon her 
Delft plate. The directions roused her from her 
reverie, and she comprehended in a moment how de- 
cisive her father’s orders were intended to be. Yet 


44 the bow of orange RIBBON 

in this matter she was so deeply interested that she 
instinctively made an appeal against them. 

“Mother, my mother, shall I not go once more 
to see Madam Gordon? So kind she has been to 
me ! She will say I am ungrateful, that I am rude, 
and know not good manners. And I left there the 
cushion I am making, and the worsteds. I may go 
once, and bring them home? Yes, mother, I may 
go once. A young girl does not like to be thought 
ungrateful and rude.’’ 

“More than that, Katherine; a young girl should 
not like to disobey a good father. You make me to 
feel astonished and sorry. Here is the key of the 
best parlor; go now, and wash carefully the fine 
china ware. As to the rose-leaves in the big jars, 
you must not let a drop of water touch them.” 

“My cushion and my worsteds, mother!” 

“Well, then, I will send Dinorah for them with 
a civil message. That will be right.” 

So Lysbet turned and left the room. She did not 
notice the rebellious look on her daughter’s face, the 
lowering brows, the resentment in the glance that 
followed her, the lips firmly set to the mental pur- 
pose. “To see her lover at all risks” — ^that was the 
purpose ; but how best to accomplish it was not clear 
to her. The ways of the household were so orderly, 
so many things brought the family together during 
the day, Lysbet and Joanna kept such a loving watch 
over her, the road between their own house and 
the Semples’ was so straight and unscreened, and 
she was, besides, such a novice in deception — all 


ORANJE BOVEN 


45 

these circumstances flashing at once across her 
mind made her, for a moment or two, almost 
despair. 

But she lifted the key given her and went to the 
parlor. It was a large, low room, with wainscoted 
walls, and a big tiled fireplace nearly filling one end 
of it. The blinds were closed, but there was enough 
light to reveal its quaint and almost foreign char- 
acter. Great jars with dragons at the handles stood 
in the recesses made by large oak cabinets, black 
with age, and elaborately carved with a marvelous 
nicety and skill. The oval tables were full of 
curious bits of china, dainty Oriental wickerwork, 
exquisite shells on lacquered trays, wonderfully 
wrought work-boxes and fans and amulets. The 
odors of calamus and myrrh and camphor from 
strange continents mingled with the faint perfume 
of the dried rose-leaves and the scent-bags of En- 
glish lavender. Many of these rare and beautiful 
things were the spoils brought from India and Java 
by the sea-going Van Heemskirks of past genera- 
tions. Others had come at long intervals as gifts 
from the captains of ships with whom the house did 
business. Katherine had often seen such visitors — 
men with long hair and fierce looks, and the pallor 
of hot, moist lands below the tan of wind and sun- 
shine. It had always been her delight to dust and 
care for these various treasures ; and the room itself, 
with its suggestive aromas, was her favorite hiding- 
place. Here she had made her own fairy tales, and 
built the enchanted castles which the less fortunate 


46 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

children of this day have clever writers build for 
them. 

And at length the prince of her imagination had 
come! As she moved about among the strange 
carven toys and beautiful ornaments, she could 
think only of him — of his stately manner and dark, 
handsome face. Simple, even rustic, she might be; 
but she understood that he had treated her with as 
much deference and homage as if she had been a 
princess. She recalled every word he said to her 
as they sat under the water beeches. More vividly 
still she recalled the tender light in his eyes, the 
lingering clasp of his hand, his low, persuasive 
voice, and that nameless charm of fashion and cul- 
ture which perhaps impressed her more than any 
other thing. 

Among the articles she had to dust was a square 
Indian box with drawers. It had always been called 
‘'the writing-box,” and it was partly filled with 
paper and other materials for letter-writing. She 
stood before the open lid thoughtfully, and a sud- 
den overwhelming desire to send some message of 
apology to Mrs. Gordon came into her heart. She 
could write pretty well, and she had seen her mother 
and Joanna fold and seal letters; and, although she 
was totally inexperienced in the matter, she deter- 
mined to make the effort. 

There was nothing in the materials then to help 
her. The letter-paper was coarse and unruled ; en- 
velopes were unknown. She would have to bring 
a candle into the room in order to seal it; and a 


ORANJE BOVEN 


47 

candle could only be lit by striking a spark from 
the flint upon the tinder, and then igniting a brim- 
stone match from it — unless she lit it at the kindled 
fire, which would subject her to questions and re- 
monstrances. Also, the quill pens must be mended, 
and the ink renewed. But all these difficulties were 
overcome, one by one; and the following note in- 
trusted to the care of Diedrich Becker, the old man 
who worked in the garden and milked the cows : 

‘To Mistress Colonel Gordon, 

^'Honored Madam — My father forbids that I 
come to see you. He thinks you should upon my 
mother call. That you will judge me to be rude 
and ungrateful, I fear very much. But that is not 
true. I am unhappy, indeed. I think all the day 
of you. Your obedient servant, 

“Katherine Van Heemskirk.’' 

“The poor child,” said Mrs. Gordon, when she 
had read the few anxious sentences. “Look here, 
Dick;” and Dick, who was beating a tattoo upon 
the window-pane, turned listlessly and asked : “Pray, 
madam, what is it?” 

“Of all earthly things, a letter from that poor 
child, Katherine Van Heemskirk. She has more wit 
than I expected. So her father won’t let her come 
to me. Why, then, upon my word, I will go to 
her.” 

Captain Hyde was interested at once. He took 
the letter his aunt offered, and read it with a feel- 


48 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


ing of love and pity and resentment. ‘‘You will go 
to-morrow?’’ he asked; “and would it be beyond 
good breeding to accompany you?” 

“Indeed, nephew, I think it would. But I will 
give your service, and say everything that is agree- 
able. Be patient: to-morrow morning I will call 
upon our fair neighbor.” 

The next morning was damp, for there had been 
heavy rain during the night; but Captain Hyde 
would not let his aunt forget or forego her prom- 
ise. She had determined to make an unceremoni- 
ous visit ; and early in the day she put on her bonnet 
and pelisse, and walked over to the Van Heems- 
kirks. A negro woman was polishing the brass or- 
naments of the door, and over its spotless threshold 
she passed without question or delay. 

A few minutes she waited alone in the best par- 
lor, charmed with its far-off air and Eastern scents. 


and then Madam Van Heemskirk welcomed her. 
In her heart she was pleased at the visit. She 
thought privately that her Joris had been a little 
too strict. She did not really see why her beautiful 
daughters should not have the society and admira- 
tion of the very best people in the Province. And 
Mrs. Gordon’s praise of Katherine, and her declara- 
tion that “she was inconsolable without the dear 
creature’s society,” seemed to the fond mother the 
most proper and natural of feelings. 

“Do but let me see her an hour, madam,” she 
said. “You know my sincere admiration. Is not 
that her voice? I vow, she sings to perfection! 


ORANJE BOVEN 


49 

And what a singular melody! Please to set wide 
the door, madam.” 

*^It is the brave song of the brave men of Zea- 
land, when from the walls of Leyden they drove 
away the Spaniards and madam stood in the open 
door, and called to her daughter: “Well, then, 
Katherine, begin again the song of ‘The Beggars 
of the Sea/ ” 

‘We are the Beggars of the Sea, — 

Strong, gray Beggars from Zealand we; 

We are fighting for liberty: 

Heave ho! rip the brown sails free! 

‘“Hardy sons of old Zierikzee, 

Fed on the breath of the wild North Sea. 

Beggars are kings if free they be: 

Heave ho! rip the brown sails free! 

*‘**‘True to the Wallet” whatever betide; 

“Long live the Gueux ” — the sea will provide 
Graves for the enemy, deep and wide: 

Heave ho! rip the brown sails free! 

“ ‘Beggars but not from the Spaniard’s hand ; 

Beggars, “under the Cross” we stand; 

Beggars, for love of the fatherland: 

Heave ho! rip the brown sails free! 

“ ‘Now if the Spaniard come our way, 

What shall we give him. Beggars gray? 

Give him a moment to kneel and pray: 

Heave ho ! rip the brown sails free !’ ” 

At the second verse, Mrs. Gordon rose and said : 
“Indeed, madam, I find my good-breeding no match 
against such singing. And the tune is wonderful: 
it has the ring of trumpets, and the roar of the 


50 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

waves, in it. Pray let us go at once to your 
daughters.” 

‘^At work are they; but, if you mind not that, you 
are welcome indeed.” Then she led the way to the 
large living, or dining, room, where Katherine stood 
at the table cleaning the silver flagons and cups and 
plates that adorned the great oak sideboard. 

Joanna, who was darning some fine linen, rose 
and made her respects with perfect composure. 
She had very little liking, either for Mrs. Gordon or 
her nephew; and many of their ways appeared to 
her utterly foolish, and not devoid of sin. But 
Katherine trembled and blushed with pleasure and 
excitement, and Mrs. Gordon watched her with a 
certain kind of curious delight. Her hair was 
combed backward, plaited, and tied with a ribbon; 
her arms bare to the shoulders, her black bodice 
and crimson petticoat neatly shielded with a linen 
apron; and poised in one hand she held a beautiful 
silver flagon covered with raised figures, which with 
patient labor she had brought into shining relief. 

‘‘Oh,” cried the visitor, “that is indeed a piece of 
plate worth looking at! Surely, child, it has a his- 
tory — a romance perhaps. La, there are words also 
upon it! Pray, madam, be so obliging as to read 
the inscription;” and madam, blushing with pride 
and pleasure, read it aloud : 

‘“Hoog van Moed, 

Klein van Goed, 

Een zwaard in de hand; 

Is ’t wapen van Gelderland.* ” 


ORANJE BOVEN 


51 

‘‘Dutch, I vow ! Surely, madam, it is very sono- 
rous and emphatic ; vastly different, I do assure you, 
from the voweled idioms of Italy and Spain. Pray, 
madam, be so civil as to translate the words for 
me.” 

“‘Of spirit great, 

Of small estate, 

A sword in the hand : 

Such are the arms of Guelderland.’ ” 

“You must know,” continued Madam Van 
Heemskirk, “that my husband’s father had a 
brother, who, in a great famine in Guelderland, 
filled one hundred flat boats with wheat of Zea- 
land — in all the world it is the finest wheat, that is 
the truth — and help he sent to those who were ready 
to perish. And when came better days, then, be- 
cause their hearts were good, they gave to their 
preserver this flagon. Joris Van Heemskirk, my 
husband, sets on it great store, that is so.” 

Conversation in this channel was easily main- 
tained. Madam Van Heemskirk knew the pedigree 
or the history of every tray or cup, and in remi- 
niscence and story an hour passed away very pleas- 
antly indeed. Joanna did not linger to listen. The 
visitor did not touch her liking or her interest ; and 
besides, as every one knows, the work of a house 
must go on, no matter what guest opens the door. 
But Katherine longed and watched and feared. 
Surely her friend would not go away without some 
private token or message for her. She turned sick 
at heart when she rose as if to depart. But Mrs. 


52 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

Gordon proved herself equal to the emergency ; for, 
after bidding madam an effusive good-by, she turned 
suddenly and said: 

“Pray, allow your daughter to show me the 
many ornaments in your parlor. The glimpse I 
had has made me very impatient to see them more 
particularly.” 

The request was one entirely in sympathy with 
the mood and the previous conversation, and 
madam was pleased to gratify it ; also pleased, that, 
having fully satisfied the claims of social life, she 
could with courtesy leave her visitor’s further enter- 
tainment with Katherine, and return to her regular 
domestic cares. To her the visit had appeared to be 
one of such general interest that she never sus- 
pected any motive beneath or beyond the friendli- 
ness it implied. Yet the moment the parlor door 
had been shut, Mrs. Gordon lifted Katherine’s face 
between her palms, and said: 

“Faith, child, I am almost run off my head with 
all the fine things I have listened to for your sake. 
Do you know who sent me here?” 

“I think, madam. Captain Hyde.” 

“Psha ! Why don’t you blush, and stammer, and 
lie about it? T think, madam, Captain Hyde,’” 
mimicking Katherine’s slight Dutch accent. “ ’Tis 
to be seen, miss, that you understand a thing or 
two. Now, Captain Hyde wishes to see you : when 
can you oblige him so much?” 

“I know not. To come to Madam Semple’s is 
forbidden me by my father.” 


ORANJE BOVEN 


53 

'‘It is on my account. I protest your father is 
very uncivil.’' 

"Madam, no; but it is the officers: many come 
and go, and he thinks it not good for me to meet 
them.” 

"Oh, indeed, miss, it is very hard on Captain 
Hyde, who is more in love than is reasonable ! Has 
your father forbidden you to walk down your gar- 
den to the river-bank?” 

"No, madam.” 

"Then, if Captain Hyde pass about two o’clock, 
he might see you there?” 

"At two I am busy with Joanna.” 

"La, child! At three then?” 

"Three?” 

The word was a question more than an assent; 
but Mrs. Gordon assumed the assent, and did not 
allow Katherine to contradict it. "And I prom- 
ised to bring him a token from you — he was ex- 
ceedingly anxious about that matter: give me the 
ribbon from your hair.” 

"Only last week Joanna bought it for me. She 
would surely ask me : 'Where is your new ribbon ?’ ” 

"Tell her that you lost it.” 

"How could I say that? It would not be true.” 

The girl’s face was so sincere that Mrs. Gordon 
found herself unable to ridicule the position. "My 
dear,” she answered, "you are a miracle. But, 
among all these pretty things, is there nothing you 
can send?” 

Katherine looked thoughtfully around. There 


54 the bow of orange RIBBON 

was a small Chinese cabinet on a table: she went 
to it, and took from a drawer a bow of orange 
ribbon. Holding it doubtfully in her hand, she 
said : “My St. Nicholas ribbon.’’ 

“La, miss, I thought you were a Calvinist ! What 
are you talking of the saints for ?” 

“St. Nicholas is our saint, our own saint; and on 
his day we wear orange. Yes, even my father then, 
on his silk cap, puts an orange bow. Orange is the 
Dutch color, you know, madam.” 

“Indeed, child, I do not know ; but, if so, then it 
is the best color to send to your true love.” 

“For the Dutch, orange always. On the great 
days of the kirk, my father puts blue with it. Blue 
is the color of the Dutch Calvinists.” 

“Make me thankful to learn so much. Then 
when Councilor Van Heemskirk wears his blue and 
orange, he says to the world: T am a Dutchman 
and a Calvinist’?” 

“That is the truth. For the Vaderland and the 
Moeder-Kerk he wears their colors. The English, 
too, they will have their own color ?” 

“La, my dear, England claims every color ! But, 
indeed, even an English officer may now wear an 
orange favor; for I remember well when our Prin- 
cess Anne married the young Prince of Orange. 
Oh, I assure you the House of Nassau is close kin 
to the House of Hanover! And when English 
princesses marry Dutch princes, then surely English 
officers may marry Dutch maidens. Your bow of 
orange ribbon is a very proper love-knot.” 


ORANJE BOVEN 


55 


“Indeed, madam, I never — 

“There, there! I can really wait no longer. 
Some one is already in a fever of impatience. ’Tis 
a quaintly pretty room : I am happy to have seen its 
curious treasures. Good-by again, child; my ser- 
vice once more to your mother and sister and so, 
with many compliments, she passed chatting and 
laughing out of the house. 

Katherine closed the best parlor, and lingered a 
moment in the act. She felt that she had permitted 
Mrs. Gordon to make an appointment for her lover, 
and a guilty sense of disobedience made bitter the 
joy of expectation. For absolute truthfulness is the 
foundation of the Dutch character; and an act of 
deception was not only a sin according to Kathe- 
rine’s nature, but one in direct antagonism to it. As 
she turned away from the closed parlor, she felt 
quite inclined to confide everything to her sister 
Joanna; but Joanna, who had to finish the cleaning 
of the silver, was not in that kind of a temper which 
invites confidence; and indeed, Katherine, looking 
into her calm, preoccupied face, felt her manner to 
be a reproof and a restraint. 

So she kept her own counsel, and doubted and ■ 
debated the matter in her heart until the hands 
of the great clock were rising quickly to the 
hour of fate. Then she laid down her fine, sew- 
ing, and said : 

“Mother, I want to walk in the garden. When I 
come back, my task I will finish.” 

“That is well. Joanna, too, has let her work 


56 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

fall down to her lap. Go, both of you, and get the 
fine air from the river.” 

This was not what Katherine wished; but noth- 
ing but assent was possible, and the girls strolled 
slowly down the box-bordered walks together. 
Madam Van Heemskirk watched them from the 
window for a few minutes. A smile of love and 
pleasure was on her fine, placid face; but she said 
with a sigh, as she turned away : 

“Well, well, if it is the will of God they should 
not rise in the world, one must be content. To the 
spider the web is as large as to the whale the whole 
wide sea ; that is the truth.” 

Joanna was silent; she was thinking of her own 
love affairs: but Katherine, doubtful of herself, 
thought also that her sister suspected her. When 
they reached the river-bank, Joanna perceived that 
the lilacs were in bloom, and at their root the beau- 
tiful auriculas; and she stooped low to inhale their 
strange, nameless, earthy perfume. At that mo- 
ment a boat rowed by with two English soldiers, 
stopped just below them, and lay rocking on her 
oars. Then an officer in the stern rose and looked 
toward Katherine, who stood in the full sunlight 
with her large hat in her hand. Before she could 
make any sign of recognition, Joanna raised herself 
from the auriculas and stood beside her sister; yet 
in the slight interval Katherine had seen Captain 
Hyde fling back from his left shoulder his cloak, 
in order to display the bow of orange ribbon on his 
breast. 


ORANJE BOVEN 


57 

The presence of Joanna baffled and annoyed 
him ; but he raised his beaver with a gallant grace, 
and Joanna dropped a courtesy, and then, taking 
Katherine's hand, turned toward home with her, 
saying : 'That is the boat of Captain Hyde. What 
comes he this way for?" 

"The river way is free to all, Joanna." And 
Joanna looked sharply at her sister, and remained 
silent. 

But Katherine was merry as a bird. She chat- 
tered of this and of that, and sang snatches of 
songs, old and new. And all the time her heart beat 
out its own glad refrain : "My bow of orange rib- 
bon, my bow of orange ribbon!" Her needle went 
to her thoughts, and her thoughts went to melody; 
for, as she worked, she sang: 

“ ‘Will you have a pink knot? 

Is it blue you prize? 

One is like a fresh rose. 

One is like your eyes. 

No, the maid of Holland, 

For her own true love, 

Ties the splendid orange, 

Orange still above! 

O oranje boven!^ 

Orange still above. 

“‘Will you have the white knot? 

No, it is too cold. 

Give me splendid orange. 

Tint of flame and gold; 

Rich and glowing orange, 

For the heart I love; 


Pronounced O-ran-ya boven. 


58 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

Under, white and pink and blue; 

Orange still above! 

O oranje boven! 

Orange still above!’” 

“How merry you sing, mijn Katrijntje! Like a 
little bird you sing. What, then, is it?’' 

“A pretty song made by the schoolmaster, mijn 
moeder. 'Oranje Boven' the name is.” 

“That is a good name. Your father I will re- 
mind to have it painted over the door of the sum- 
mer-house.” 

“There already are two mottos painted : ‘Peace- 
ful is my garden,’ and ‘Contentment is my lot.’ ” 

“Well, then, there is always room for two more 
good words, is there not?” And Katherine gaily 
sung her answer: 

“ ‘Tie the splendid orange. 

Orange still above! 

O oranje boven! 

Orange still above.’ ” 


CHAPTER IV 


JOY IN THE HOUSE 

“The trifles of our daily lives, 

The common things scarce worth recall, 

Whereof no visible trace survives, — 

These are the mainsprings after all.” 

“The little waves make the large ones, and are of the 
same pattern.” 

T T ONORED gentleman, when will you pay 

J 71 me my moneys?’^ 

The speaker was an old man, dressed in a black 
coat buttoned to the ankles, and a cap of silk and 
fur, from beneath which fell a fringe of gray hair. 
His long beard was also gray, and he leaned upon 
an ivory staff carved with many strange signs. The 
inquiry was addressed to Captain Hyde. He paid 
no attention whatever to it, but, gaily humming a 
stave of ‘‘Malbrook,’' watched the crush of wagons 
and pedestrians, in order to find a suitable moment 
to cross the narrow street. 

“Honored gentleman, when will you pay me my 
moneys 

The second inquiry elicited still less attention; 
for, just as it was made, Neil Semple came out of 
the City Hall, and his appearance gave the captain 
a good excuse for ignoring the unpleasant speaker. 

59 


6o THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

‘Taith, Mr. Semple/’ he cried, *'you came in an 
excellent time. I am for Fraunce’s Tavern, and a 
chop and a bottle of Madeira. I shall be vastly glad 
of your company.” 

The grave young lawyer, with his hands full of 
troublesome-looking papers, had little of the air of 
a boon companion; and, indeed, the invitation was 
at once courteously declined. 

‘‘I have a case on in the Admiralty Court, cap- 
tain,” he answered, “and so my time is not my own. 
It belongs, I may say, to the man who has paid me 
good money for it.” 

“Lawyer Semple?” 

“Mr. Cohen, at your service, sir.” 

“Captain Hyde owes me one hundred guineas, 
with the interests, since the fifteenth day of last 
December. He will not hear me when I say to him, 
Tay me my moneys;’ perhaps he will listen if you 
speak for me.” 

“If you are asking my advice in the way of busi- 
ness, you know my office-door, Cohen; if in the 
way of friendship, I may as well say at once that 
I never name friendship and money in the same 
breath. Good day, gentlemen. I am in something 
of a hurry, as you may understand.” Cohen bowed 
low in response to the civil greeting ; Captain Hyde 
stared indignantly at the man who had presumed 
to couple one of his Majesty’s officers with a money- 
lender and a Jew. 

“I do not wish to make you more expenses, 
captain;” and Cohen, following the impulse of his 


JOY IN THE HOUSE 


6i 


anxiety, laid his hand upon his debtor’s arm. Hyde 
turned in a rage, and flung off the touch with a pas- 
sionate oath. Then the Jew left him. There was 
neither anger nor impatience visible in his face or 
movements. He cast a glance up at the City Hall 
— an involuntary appeal, perhaps, to the justice sup- 
posed to inhabit its chambers — and then he walked 
slowly toward his store and home. 

Both were under one roof — a two-storied build- 
ing in the lower part of Pearl Street, dingy and 
unattractive in outward appearance, but crowded 
in its interior with articles of beauty and worth — 
Flemish paintings and metal work, Venetian glasses 
and velvets, Spanish and Moorish leather goods, 
silverware, watches, jewelry, etc. The window of 
the large room in which all was stored was dim 
with cobwebs, and there was no arrangement of 
the treasures. They were laid in the drawers of 
the great Dutch presses and cabinets, or packed in 
boxes, or hung against the walls. 

At the back of the store there was a small sitting- 
room, and behind it a kitchen, built in a yard which 
was carefully boarded up. A narrow stairway near 
the front of the store led to the apartments above. 
They were three in number. One was a kind of 
lumber-room ; a second, Cohen’s sleeping-room ; and 
the largest, at the back of the house, belonged to the 
Jew’s grandchild Miriam. There was one servant 
in the family, an old woman who had come to 
America with Jacob. She spoke little English, and 
she lived in complete seclusion in her kitchen and 


62 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


yard. As far as Jacob Cohen was concerned, he 
preserved an Oriental reticence about the women 
of his household: he never spoke of them, and he 
was never seen in their company. It was seldom 
they went abroad; when they did so, it was early 
in the morning, and usually to the small synagogue 
in Mill Street. 

He soon recovered the calmness which had been 
lost during his unsatisfactory interview with Cap- 
tain Hyde. “A wise man frets not himself for the 
folly of a fool and, having come to this decision, 
he entered his house with the invocation for its 
peace and prosperity on his lips. A party of three 
gentlemen were examining his stock : they were 
Governor Clinton and his friends Colden and 
Belcher. 

‘‘Cohen,” said Clinton, “you have many fine 
things here; in particular, this Dutch cabinet, with 
heavy brass mountings. Send it to my residence. 
And that Venetian mirror with the silver frame 
will match the silver sconces you sold me at the 
New Year. I do not pretend to be a judge, but 
these things are surely extremely handsome. Pray, 
sir, let us see the Moorish leather that William 
Walton has reserved for his new house. I hear 
you are to have the ordering of the carpets and 
tapestries. You will make money, Jacob Cohen.” 

“Your Excellency knows best. I shall make my 
just profits — no more, no more.” 

“Yes, yes ; you have many ways to make profits, 
I hear. All do well, too.” 


JOY IN THE HOUSE 63 

‘‘When God pleases, it rains with every wind, 
your Excellency/’ 

Then there was a little stir in the street — that 
peculiar sense of something more than usual, which 
can made itself felt in the busiest thoroughfare — 
and Golden went to the door and looked out. Joris 
Van Heemskirk was just passing, and his walk was 
something quicker than usual. 

“Good day to you, councilor. Pray, sir, what is 
to do at the wharf? I perceive the bustle comes 
thence.” 

“At your service. Councilor Golden. At the 
wharf there is good news. The ‘Great Christo- 
pher’ has come to anchor — Captain Batavius de 
Vries. So a good morrow, sir;” and Joris lifted 
his beaver, and proceeded on his way to Murray’s 
Wharf. 

Bram was already on board. His hands were 
clasped across the big right shoulder of Batavius, 
who stood at the mainmast, giving orders about 
his cargo. He was a large man, with the indis- 
putable air of a sailor from strange seas, familiar 
with the idea of solitude, and used to absolute au- 
thority. He loved Bram after his own fashion, but 
his vocabulary of affectionate words was not a large 
one. Bram, however, understood him ; he had been 
quite satisfied with his short and undemonstrative 
greeting : 

“Thee, Bram? Good! How goes it?” 

The advent of Joris added a little to the enthu- 
siasm of the meeting. Jori§ thoroughly liked Bata- 


64 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

i 

vius, and their hands slipped into each other’s witK 
a mighty grasp almost spontaneously. After some 
necessary delay, the three men left the ship together. 
There was quite a crowd on the wharf. Some were 
attracted by curiosity; others, by the hope of a 
good job on the cargo; others, again, not averse 
to a little private bargaining for any curious or val- 
uable goods the captain of the ^‘Great Christopher” 
had for sale. Cohen was among the latter; but he 
had too much intelligence to interfere with a fam- 
ily party, especially as he heard Joris say»to the 
crowd with a polite authority, ‘‘Make way, friends, 
make way. When a man is off a three-years’ cruise, 
for a trifle he should not be stopped.” 

Joanna had had a message from her lover, and 
she was watching for his arrival. There was no 
secrecy in her love-affairs, and it was amid the joy 
and smiles of the whole household that she met her 
aflianced husband. They were one of those loving, 
sensible couples, for whom it is natural to predict 
a placid and happy life; and the first words of 
Batavius seemed to assure it : 

“My affairs have gone well, Joanna, as they gen- 
erally do ; and now I shall build the house, and we 
shall be married.” 

Joanna laughed. “I shall just say a word or two, 
also, about that, Batavius.” 

“Come, come, the word or two was said so long 
ago. Have you got the pretty Chinese kas I sent 
from the ship? and the Javanese cabayaj and the 
sweetmeats; and the gqld^ pins,” 


JOY IN THE HOUSE 65 

‘‘All of them I have got. Much money, Bata- 
vms, they must have cost.” 

“Well, well, then! There is enough left. A man 
does not go to the African coast for nothing. — 
Katrijntje, mijn meisje, what’s the matter now, 
that you never come once?” 

Katherine was standing at the open window, ap- 
parently watching the honey-bees among the locust 
blooms, but really perceiving something far beyond 
them — a boat on the river at the end of the garden. 
She could not have told how she knew it was there ; 
but she saw it, saw it through the intervening space, 
barred and shaded by many trees. She felt the 
slow drift of the resting oars, and the fascination 
of an eager, handsome face lifted to the lilac bushes 
which hedged the bank. So the question of Bata- 
vius touched very lightly her physical conscious- 
ness. A far sweeter, a far more peremptory voice 
called her; but she answered: 

“There is nothing the matter, Batavius. I am 
well, I am happy. And now I will go into the gar- 
den to make me a fine nosegay.” 

“Three times this week, into the garden you have 
gone to get a nosegay ; and then all about it you for- 
get. It will be better to listen to Batavius, I think. 
He will tell us of the strange countries where he 
has been, and of the strange men and women.” 

“For you, Joanna, that will be pleasant; but — ” 

“For yon also. To listen to Batavius is to learn 
something.” 

“Well, that is the truth. But to me all this 


66 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

talk is not very interesting. I will go into the 
garden;” and she walked slowly out of the door, 
and stopped or stooped at every flower-bed, while 
Joanna watched her. 

‘‘The child is now a woman. It will be a lover 
next, Joanna.” 

“There is a lover already ; but to anything he says, 
Katrijntje listens not. It is at her father's knee she 
sits, not at the lover's.” 

“It will be Rem Verplanck? And what will come 
of it?” 

“No, it is Neil Semple. To-night you will see. 
He comes in and talks of the Assembly and the 
governor, and of many things of great moment. 
But it is Katherine for all that. A girl has not 
been in love four years for nothing. I can see, 
too, that my father looks sad, and my mother says 
neither yes nor no in the matter.” 

“The Semples are good business managers. They 
are also rich, and they approve of good morals and 
the true religion. Be content, Joanna. Many roads 
lead to happiness beside the road we take. Now, 
let us talk of our own affairs.” 

It was at this moment Katherine turned to 
observe if she were watched. No; Batavius and 
Joanna had gone away from the window, and for 
a little while she would not be missed. She ran 
rapidly to the end of the garden, and, parting the 
lilac-bushes, stood flushed and panting on the river- 
bank. There was a stir of oars below her. It was 
precisely as she had known it would be. Captain 


JOY IN THE HOUSE 


67 

Hyde's pretty craft shot into sight, and a few strokes 
put it at the landing-stair. In a moment he was at 
her side. He took her in his arms ; and, in spite of 
the small hands covering her blushing face, he kissed 
her with passionate affection. 

‘^My darling, my chanuer!" he said. “How you 
have tortured me ! By my soul, I have been almost 
distracted. Pray, now, let me see thy lovely face.” 
He lifted it in his hands and kissed it again — kissed 
the rosy cheeks, and white dropped eyelids, and red 
smiling mouth ; vowed with every kiss that she was 
the most adorable of women, and protested, “on his 
honor as a soldier,” that he would make her his wife, 
or die a bachelor for her sake. 

And who can blame a young girl if she listens 
and believes, when listening and believing mean to 
her perfect happiness? Not women who have ever 
stood, trembling with love and joy, close to the dear 
one's heart. If they be gray-haired, and on the very 
shoal of life, they must remember still those mo- 
ments of delight — the little lane, the fire-lit room, 
the drifting boat, that is linked with them. If they 
be young and lovely, and have but to say, “It was 
yesterday,” or, “It was last week,” still better they 
will understand the temptation that was too great 
for Katherine to overcome. 

And, as yet, nothing definite had been said to her 
about Neil Semple, and the arrangement made for 
her future. Joris had intended every day to tell her, 
and every day his heart had failed him. He felt 
as if the entire acceptance of the position would be 


68 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

giving his little daughter away. As long as she 
was not formally betrothed, she was all his own; 
and Neil could not use that objectionable word ‘‘my” 
in regard to her. Lysbet was still more averse to a 
decisive step. She had had “dreams” and “presenti- 
ments” of unusual honor for Katherine, which she 
kept with a superstitious reverence in her memory ; 
and the girl’s great beauty and winning manners 
had fed this latent expectancy. But to see her the 
wife of Neil Semple did not seem to be any realiza- 
tion of her ambitious hopes. She had known Neil 
all his life; and she could not help feeling, that, if 
Katherine’s fortune lay with him, her loving dreams 
were* all illusions and doomed to disappointment. 

Besides, with a natural contradiction, she was a 
little angry at Neil’s behavior. He had been com- 
ing to their house constantly for a month at least; 
every opportunity of speaking to Katherine on his 
own behalf had been given him, and he had not 
done so. He was too indifferent, or he was too 
confident: and either feeling she resented. But she 
judged Neil wrongly. He was an exceedingly cau- 
tious young man ; and he felt what the mother could 
not perceive — a certain atmosphere about the charm- 
ing girl which was a continual repression to him. 
In the end, he determined to win her, win her en- 
tirely, heart and hand ; therefore he did not wish to 
embarrass his subsequent wooing by having to sur- 
mount at the outset the barrier of a premature “no.” 
And, as yet, his jealousy of Captain Hyde was 
superficial and intermitting; it had not entered his 


JOY IN THE HOUSE 


69 

mind that an English officer could possibly be an 
actual rival to him. They were all of them notori- 
ously light of love, and the Colonial beauties treated 
their homage with as light a belief ; only it angered 
and pained him that Katherine should suffer 
herself to be made the pastime of Hyde’s idle 
hours. 

On the night of De Vries’s return, there was a 
great gathering at Van Heemskirk’s house. No 
formal invitations were given, but all the friends of 
the family understood that it would be so. Joris 
kept on his coat and ruffles and fine cravat, Bata- 
vius wore his blue broadcloth and gilt buttons, and 
Lysbet and her daughters were. in their kirk dresses 
of silk and camblet. It was an exquisite summer 
evening, and the windows looking into the garden 
were all open ; so also was the door ; and long before 
sunset the stoop was full of neighborly men, smok- 
ing with Joris and Batavius, and discussing Colonial 
and commercial affairs. 

In the living-room and the best parlor, their wives 
were gathered — women with finely rounded forms, 
very, handsomely clothed, and all busily employed 
in the discussion of subjects of the greatest inter- 
est to them. For Joanna’s marriage was now to be 
freely talked over — the house Batavius was going 
to build described, the linen and clothing she had 
prepared examined, and the numerous and rich 
presents her lover had brought her wondered over, 
and commented upon. 

Conspicuous in the happy, chattering company. 


70 THE BOIV OF ORANGE RIBBON 

Lysbet Van Heemskirk bustled about, in the very 
whitest and stifYest of lace caps; making a sugges- 
tion, giving an opinion, scolding a careless servant, 
putting out upon the sideboard Hollands, Geneva, 
and other strong waters, and ordering in from the 
kitchen hot chocolate and cakes of all kinds for the 
women of the company. Very soon after sundown. 
Elder Semple and madam his wife arrived ; and the 
elder, as usual, made a decided stir among the group 
which he joined. 

^^No, no, councilor,’^ he said, in answer to the 
invitation of Joris to come outside. “No, no. I’ll 
not risk my health, maybe my vera life, oot on the 
stoop after sunset. Warm,’ do you say? Vera 
warm, and all the maur for being warm. My med- 
ical man thinks I hae a tendency to fever, and there’s 
four-fourths o’ fever in every inch o’ river mist that 
a man breathes these warm nights.” 

“Well, then, neighbors, we’ll go inside,” said 
Joris. “Clean pipes, and a snowball,^ or a glass of 
Hollands, will not, I think, be amiss.” 

The movement was made among some jokes and 
laughter; and they gathered near the hearthstone, 
where, in front of the unlit hickory logs, stood a 
tall blue jar filled with feathery branches of fennel 
and asparagus. But, as the jar of Virginia was 
passed around, Lysbet looked at Dinorah, and Di- 
norah went to the door and called, “Baltus”; and 
in a minute or two a little black boy entered with 
some hot coals on a brass chafing-dish, and the fire 


* Snowball— gin mixed stifi with sugar* 


JOY IN THE HOUSE 


71 

was as solemnly and silently passed around as if it 
were some occult religious ceremony. 

The conversation interrupted by Semple’s en- 
trance was not resumed. It had been one dealing 
out unsparing and scornful disapproval of Governor 
Clinton’s financial methods, and Clinton was known 
to be a personal friend of Semple’s. But the elder 
would perhaps hardly have appreciated the consid- 
eration, if he had divined it; for he dearly loved 
an argument, and had no objections to fight for 
his own side single-handed. In fact, it was so nat- 
ural for him to be “in opposition,” that he could 
not bear to join the general congratulation to De 
Vries on his fortunate voyage. 

“You were lang awa’, captain,” was his opening 
speech. “It would tak’ a deal o’ gude fortune to 
mak’ it worth your while to knock around the high 
seas for three years or mair.” 

“Well, look now, elder, I didn’t come home with 
empty hands. I have always been apt to get into 
the place where gold and good bargains were 
going.” 

“Hum-m-m! You sailed for Rotterdam, I 
think?” 

“That is true; from Rotterdam I went to Bata- 
via, and then to the coast of Africa. The African 
cargo took me to the West Indies. From Kingston 
it was easy to St. Thomas and Surinam for cotton, 
and then to Curagao for dyeing- woods and spices. 
The ‘Great Christopher’ took luck with her. Every 
cargo was a good cargo.” 


72 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

“Fll no be certain o’ that, captain. I would hae 
some scruples mysel’ anent buying and selling men 
and women o’ any color. We hae no quotations 
from the other world, and it may be the Almighty 
holds his black men at as high a figure as his white 
men. I’m just speculating, you ken. I hae a son 
— my third son, Alexander Semple o’ Boston — wha 
has made money on the Africans. I hae told him, 
likewise, that trading in wheat and trading in hu- 
manity may hae ethical differences; but every one 
settles his ain bill, and I’ll hae enough to do to 
secure mysel’.” 

Batavius was puzzled; and at the words ‘‘ethical 
differences,” his big brown hand was “in the hair” 
at once. He scratched his head and looked doubt- 
fully at Semple, whose face was peculiarly placid 
and thoughtful and kindly. 

“Men must work, elder, and these blacks won’t 
work unless they are forced to. I, who am a bap- 
tized Christian, have to do my duty in this life ; and, 
as for pagans, they must be made to do it. I am 
myself a great lover of morality, and that is what 
I think. Also, you may read in the Scriptures, that 
St. Paul says that if a man will not work, neither 
shall he eat.” 

“St. Paul dootless kent a’ about the question o’ 
forced labor, seeing that he lived when baith white 
and black men were sold for a price. However, 
siller in the hand answers a’ questions; and the do- 
minie made a vera true observe one Sabbath, when 
he said that the Almighty so ordered things in this 


JOY IN THE HOUSE 


73 

warld that orthodoxy and good living led to wealth 
and prosperity.’' 

^‘That is the truth,” answered Justice Van Gaas- 
beeck : “Holland is Holland because she has the 
true faith. You may see that in France there is 
anarchy and bloodshed and great poverty: that is 
because they are Roman Catholics.” 

It was at this moment Katherine came and stood 
behind her father’s chair. She let her hand fall 
down over his shoulder, and he raised his own 
to clasp it. “What! is it, then, mijn Katrijntje 
kleintjef' 

“It is to dance. Mother says ‘y^s,’ if thou art 
willing.” 

“Then I say 'yes,’ also.” 

For a moment she laid her cheek against his; 
and the happy tears came into his eyes, and he 
stroked her face, and half-reluctantly let Batavius 
lead her away. For, at the first mention of a dance, 
Batavius had risen and put down his pipe; and in 
a few minutes he was triumphantly guiding Joanna 
in a kind of mazy waltzing movement, full of spirit 
and grace. 

At that day there were but few families of any 
wealth who did not own one black man who could 
play well upon the violin. Joris possessed two ; and 
they were both on hand, putting their own gay spir- 
its into the fiddle and the bow. And oh, how 
happy were the beating feet and the beating hearts 
that went to the stirring strains! It was joy and 
love and youth in melodious motion. The old 


74 the bow of orange RIBBON 

looked on with gleaming, sympathetic eyes; the 
young forgot that they were mortal. 

Then there was a short pause; and the ladies 
sipped chocolate, and the gentlemen sipped some- 
thing a little stronger, and a merry ripple of con- 
versation and of hearty laughter ran with the clink 
of glass and china, and the scraping of the fiddle- 
bows. 

‘‘Miss Katern Van Heemskirk and Mr. Neil Sem- 
ple will now hah de honor of 'bliging de company 
wid de French minuet.’^ 

At this announcement, made by the first negro 
violin, there was a sudden silence; and Neil rose, 
and with a low bow offered the tips of his fingers 
to the beautiful girl, who rose blushing to take them. 
The elder deliberately turned his chair around, in 
order to watch the movement comfortably; and 
there was an inexpressible smile of satisfaction on 
his face as his eyes followed the young people. 
Neil’s dark, stately beauty was well set off by his 
black velvet suit and powdered hair and gold 
buckles. And no lovelier contrast could have faced 
him than Katherine Van Heemskirk: so delicately 
fresh, so radiantly fair, she looked in her light blue 
robe and white lace stomacher, with a pink rose 
at her breast. There were shining amber beads 
around her white throat, and a large amber comb 
fastened her pale brown hair. A gilded Indian 
fan was in her hand, and she used it with all 
the pretty airs she had so aptly copied from Mrs. 
Gordon. 


JOY IN THE HOUSE 


75 

Neil had a natural majesty in his carriage; Kath- 
erine supplemented it with a natural grace, and with 
certain courtly movements which made the little 
Dutch girls, who had never seen Mrs. Gordon prac- 
tising them, admire and wonder. As she was in the 
very act of making Neil a profound courtesy, the 
door opened, and Mrs. Gordon and Captain Hyde 
entered. The latter took in the exquisite picture in 
a moment; and there was a fire of jealousy in his 
heart when he saw Neil lead his partner to her seat, 
and with the deepest respect kiss her pretty fingers 
ere he resigned them. 

But he was compelled to control himself, as he 
was ceremoniously introduced to Councilor and 
Madam Van Heemskirk by his aunt, who with a 
charming effusiveness declared ^‘she was very un- 
easy to intrude so far; but, in faith, councilor,” she 
pleaded, ‘T am but a woman, and I find the news of 
a wedding beyond my nature to resist.” 

There was something so frank and persuasive 
about the elegant stranger, that Joris could not re- 
fuse the courtesy she asked for herself and her 
nephew. And, having yielded, he yielded with en- 
tire truth and confidence. He gave his hand to his 
visitors, and made them heartily welcome to join in 
his household rejoicing. True, Mrs. Gordon’s per- 
suasive words were ably seconded by causes which 
she had probably calculated. The elder and Madam 
Semple were present, and it would have been im- 
possible for Joris to treat their friends rudely. 
Bram was also another conciliating element, for 


76 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

Captain Hyde was on pleasant speaking terms with 
him; and, as yet, even Neil’s relations were at least 
those of presumed friendship. Also, the Van Gaas- 
beecks and others present were well inclined to make 
the acquaintance of a woman so agreeable, and an 
officer so exceptionally handsome and genteel. Be- 
sides which, Joris was himself in a happy and genial 
mood : he had opened his house and his heart to his 
friends; and he did not feel at that hour as if he 
could doubt any human being, or close his door 
against even the stranger and the alien who wished 
to rejoice with him. 

Elder Semple was greatly pleased at his friend’s 
complaisance. He gave Joris full credit for his vic- 
tory over his national prejudices, and he did his 
very best to make the concession a pleasant event. 
In this effort, he was greatly assisted by Mrs. Gor- 
don: she set herself to charm Van Heemskirk, as 
she had set herself to charm Madam Van Heems- 
kirk on her previous visit; and she succeeded so 
well, that, when “Sir Roger de Coverley” was 
called, Joris rose, offered her his hand, and, to the 
delight of every one present, led the dance with her. 

It was a little triumph for the elder; and he sat 
smiling, and twirling his fingers, and thoroughly 
enjoying the event. Indeed, he was so interested in 
listening to the clever way in which “the bonnie 
woman flattered Van Heemskirk,” that he was quite 
oblivious of the gathering wrath in his son’s face, 
and the watchful gloom in Bram’s eyes, as the two 
men stood together, jealously observant of Captain 


JOY IN THE HOUSE 


77 


Hyde's attentions to Katherine. Without any words 
spoken on the subject, there was an understood com- 
pact between them to guard the girl from any pri- 
vate conversation with him; and yet two men with 
hearts full of suspicion and jealousy were not a 
match for one man with a heart full of love. In 
a moment, in the interchange of their hands in a 
dance, Katherine clasped tightly a little note, and 
unobserved hid it behind the rose at her breast. 

But nothing is a wonder in love, or else it would 
have been amazing that Joanna did not notice the 
rose absent from her sister's dress after Captain 
Hyde’s departure; nor yet that Katherine, ere she 
went to rest that night, kissed fervently a tiny bit 
of paper which she hid within the silver clasps of 
her Kirk Bible. The loving girl thought it no 
wrong to put it there: she even hoped that some 
kind of blessing or sanction might come through 
such sacred keeping ; and she went to sleep whisper- 
ing to herself : 

''Happy I am. Me he loves; me he loves; me 
only he loves; me forever he loves!” 


CHAPTER V 


THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE 

“All pleasure must be bought at the price of pain. The true 
pay the price before they enjoy it; the false, after they enjoy it.” 

“The future does not come from before to meet us, but 
comes streaming up from behind, over our heads.” 

“Who is free? The man who masters his own self. 

Who is powerful ? He who can control his passions.” 

^‘1^ yTY dear Dick, I am exceedingly concerned 

1 V I to find you in such a taking — a soldier 
who has known some of the finest women of the 
day, moping about a Dutch schoolgirl! Pshaw! 
Don’t be a fool. I had a much better opinion of 
you.” 

“ ’Tis a kind of folly that runs in the family, 
aunt. I have heard that you preferred Colonel 
Gordon to a duke.” 

''Now, sir, you are ill-natured. Dukes are not 
uncommon : a man of sense and sensibility is a treas- 
ure. Make me grateful that I secured one.” 

"Lend me your wit, then, for the same consum- 
mation. I assure you that I consider Katherine Van 
Heemskirk a treasure past belief. Confess, now, 
that she was the loveliest of creatures last night.” 

"She has truly a fine complexion, and she dances 
with all the elegance imaginable. I know, too, that 

78 


THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE 79 

she sings to perfection, and has most agreeable and 
obliging manners/’ 

“And a heart which abounds in every tender 
feeling.” 

“Oh, indeed, sir ! I was not aware that you knew 
her so well.” 

“I know that I love her beyond everything, and 
that I am likely so to love her all my life.” 

“Upon my word, Dick, love may live an age — if 
you don’t marry it.” 

“Let me make you understand that I wish to 
marry it.” 

“Oh, indeed, sir! Then the church door stands 
open. Go in. I suppose the lady will oblige you 
so far.” 

“Pray, my dear aunt, talk sensibly. Give me your 
advice; you know already that I value it. What is 
the first step to be taken?” 

“Go and talk with her father. I assure you, no 
real progress can be made without it. The girl 
you think worth asking for ; but it is very necessary 
for you to know what fortune goes with her beauty.” 

“If her father refuse to give her to me — ” 

“That is not to be thought of. I have seen that 
some of the best of these Dutch families are very 
willing to be friendly with us. You come of a 
noble race. You wear your sword with honor. You 
are not far from the heritage of a great title and 
estate. If you ask for her fortune, you offer far 
above its equivalent, sir.” 

“I have heard Mr. Neil Semple say that Van 


8o THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

Heetnskirk is a great stickler for trade, and that 
he hates every man who wears a sword/* 

“You have heard more than you need listen to. 
I talked to the man an hour last night. He is as 
honest as a looking-glass, and I read him all through 
with the greatest ease. I am sure that he has a 
heart very tender, and devoid of anger or prejudice 
of any kind.** 

“That is to be seen. I have discovered already 
that men who can be very gentle can also be very 
rough. But this suspense is intolerable, and not to 
be borne. I will go and end it. Pray, what is the 
hour ?** 

“It is about three o*clock; a very suitable hour, 
I think.** 

“Then give me your good wishes.’* 

“I shall be impatient to hear the result.” 

“In an hour or two — ** 

“Oh, sir, I am not so foolish as to expect you in 
an hour or two! When you have spoken with the 
father, you will doubtless go home with him and 
drink a dish of tea with your divinity. I can im- 
agine your unreasonable felicity, Dick — seas of 
milk, and ships of amber, and all sails set for the 
desired haven! I know it all, so I hope you will 
spare me every detail — except, indeed, such as relate 
to pounds, shillings, and pence.** 

It was a very hot afternoon; and Van Heems- 
kirk’s store, though open to the river breezes, was 
not by any means a cool or pleasant place. Bram 
was just within the doors, marking “Boston** on a 


THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE 8i 

number of flour barrels, which were being rapidly 
transferred to a vessel lying at the wharf. He was 
absorbed and hurried in the matter, and received 
the visitor with rather a cool courtesy ; but whether 
the coolness was of intention or preoccupation. Cap- 
tain Hyde did not perceive it. He asked for Coun- 
cilor Van Heemskirk, and was taken to his oflice, 
a small room, intensely warm and sunny at that 
hour of the day. 

‘‘Your servant, captain.” 

“Yours, most sincerely, councilor. It is a hot 
day.” 

“That is so. We come near to midsummer. Is 
there anything I can oblige you in, sir ?” 

Joris asked the question because the manner of 
the young man struck him as uneasy and con- 
strained ; and he thought, “Perhaps he has come to 
borrow money.” It was notorious that his Maj- 
esty's officers gambled, and were often in very great 
need of it; and, although Joris had not any inten- 
tion of risking his gold, he thought it as well to 
bring out the question, and have the refusal under- 
stood before unnecessary politeness made it more 
difficult. He was not, therefore, astonished when 
Captain Hyde answered : 

“Sir, you can indeed oblige me, and that in a 
matter of the greatest moment.” 

“If money it be, captain, at once I may tell you, 
that I borrow not, and I lend not.” 

“Sir, it is not money — in particular.” 

‘‘So?” 


82 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


“It is your daughter Katherine.” 

Then Joris stood up, and looked steadily at the 
suitor. His large, amiable face had become in a 
moment hard and stern; and the light in his eyes 
was like the cold, sharp light that falls from drawn 
steel. 

“My daughter is not for you to name. Sir, it is 
a wrong to her, if you speak her name.” 

“By my honor, it is not! Though I come of as 
good family as any in England, and may not unrea- 
sonably hope to inherit its earldom, I do assure you, 
sir, I sue as humbly for your daughter’s hand as if 
she were a princess.” 

“Your family! Talk not of it. King nor kaiser 
do I count better men than my own foregoers. Like 
to like, that is what I say. Your wife seek, captain, 
among your own women.” 

“I protest that I love your daughter. I wish 
above all things to make her my wife.” 

“Many things men desire, that they come not 
near to. My daughter is to another man promised.” 

“Look you, councilor, that would be monstrous. 
Your daughter loves me.” 

Joris turned white to the lips. “It is not the 
truth,” he answered in a slow, husky voice. 

“By the sun in heaven, it is the truth ! Ask her.” 

“Then a great scoundrel are you, unfit with hon- 
est men to talk. Ho! Yes, your sword pull from 
its scabbard. Strike. To the heart, strike me. Less 
wicked would be the deed than the thing you have 
done.” 


THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE 83 

“In faith, sir, ’tis no crime to win a woman’s 
love.” 

“No crime it would be to take the guilders from 
my purse, if my consent was to it. But into my 
house to come, and while warm was yet my wel- 
come, with my bread and wine in your lips, to take 
my gold, a shame and a crime would be. My 
daughter than gold is far more precious.” 

There was something very impressive in the angry 
sorrow of Joris. It partook of his own magnitude. 
Standing in front of him, it was impossible for 
Captain Hyde not to be sensible of the difference 
between his own slight, nervous frame, and the 
fair, strong massiveness of Van Heemskirk; and, 
in a dim way, he comprehended that this physical 
difference was only the outward and visible sign 
of a mental and moral one quite as positive and 
unchangeable. 

Yet he persevered in his solicitation. With a 
slight impatience of manner he said : “Do but hear 
me, sir. I have done nothing contrary to the cus- 
tom of people in my condition, and I assure you 
that with all my soul I love your daughter.” 

“Love! So talk you. You see a girl beautiful, 
sweet, and innocent. Your heart, greedy and covet- 
ous, wants her as it has wanted, doubtless, many 
others. For yourself only, you seek her. And what 
is it you ask then? That she should give up for 
you her father, mother, home, her own faith, her 
own people, her own country — the poor little one! 
— to a cold, cheerless land among strangers, alone 


84 the bow of orange RIBBON 

in the sorrows and pains that to all women come. 
Love ! In God’s name, what know you of love ?” 

“No man can love her better.” 

“What say you? How, then, do I love her? I 
who carried her — mijn witte lammetje '^ — in these 
arms before yet she could say to me, ‘Fader !’ ” 
Flis wrath had been steadily growing, in spite of 
the mist in his eyes and the tenderness in his voice ; 
and suddenly striking the desk a ponderous blow 
with his closed hand, he said with an unmistakable 
passion : “My daughter you shall not have. God in 
heaven to Himself take her ere such sorrow come 
to her and me !” 

“Sir, you are very uncivil; but I am thankful to 
know so much of your mind. And, to be plain 
with you, I am determined to marry your daughter 
if I can compass the matter in any way. It is 
now, then, open war between us; and so, sir, your 
servant.” 

“Stay. To me listen. Not one guilder will I give 
to my daughter, if — ” 

“To the devil with your guilders! Dirty money 
made in dirty traffic — ” 

“You lie.” 

“Sir, you take an infamous advantage. You 
know that, being Katherine’s father, I will not 
challenge you.” 

''ChristusT roared Joris, “challenge me one hun- 
dred times. A fool I would be to answer you. Life 
my God gave to me. Well, then, only my God shall 


^ My white Iamb. 


THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE 85 

from me take it. See you these arms and hands? 
In them you will be as the child of one year. Ere 
beyond my reason you move me, go!” and he strode 
to the door and flung it open with a passion that 
made every one in the store straighten themselves, 
and look curiously toward the two men. 

White with rage, and with his hand upon his 
sword-hilt. Captain Hyde stamped his way through 
the crowded store to the dusty street. Then it 
struck him that he had not asked the name of the 
man to whom Katherine was promised. He swore 
at himself for the omission. Whether he knew him 
or not, he was determined to fight him. In the 
mean time, the most practical revenge was to try 
and see Katherine before her father had the oppor- 
tunity to give her any orders regarding him. Just 
then he met Neil Semple, and he stopped and asked 
him the time. 

“It will be the half hour after four, captain. I 
am going home : shall I have your company, sir ?” 

“I have not so much leisure to-night. Make a 
thousand regrets to Madam Semple and my aunt 
for me.’’ 

Neil’s calm, complacent gravity was unendur- 
able. He turned from him abruptly, and, mutter- 
ing passionate exclamations, went to the river-bank 
for a boat. Often he had seen Katherine between 
five and six o’clock at the foot of the Van Heems- 
kirk garden; for it was then possible for her to 
slip away while madam was busy about her house, 
and Joanna and Batavius talking over their own 


86 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


affairs. And this evening he felt that the very in- 
tensity of his desire must surely bring her to their 
trysting-place behind the lilac hedge. 

Whether he was right or wrong, he did not con- 
sider; for he was not one of those potent men who 
have themselves in their own power. Nor had it 
ever entered his mind that “love’s strength standeth 
in love’s sacrifice,” or that the only love worthy of 
the name refuses to blend with anything that is low 
or vindictive or clandestine. And, even if he had 
not loved Katherine, he would now have been deter- 
mined to marry her. Never before in all his life 
had he found an object so engrossing. Pride and 
revenge were added to love, as motives; but who 
will say that love was purer or stronger or sweeter 
for them? 

In the mean time, Joris was suffering as only 
such deep natures can suffer. There are domestic 
fatalities which the wisest and tenderest of parents 
seem impotent to contend with. Joris had certainly 
been alarmed by Semple’s warning; but in forbid- 
ding his daughter to visit Mrs. Gordon, and in per- 
mitting the suit of Neil Semple, he thought he had 
assured her safety. Through all the past weeks he 
had seen no shadow on her face. The fear had died 
out, and the hope had been slowly growing; so 
that Captain Hyde’s proposal, and his positive as- 
sertion that Katherine loved him, had fallen upon 
the father’s heart with the force of a blow, and 
the terror of a shock. And the sting of the sor- 
row was this — that his child had deceived him. 


THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE 87 

Certainly she had not spoken false words, but truth 
can be outraged by silence quite as cruelly as by 
speech. 

After Hyde’s departure, he shut the door of his 
office, walked to the window, and stood there some 
minutes, clasping and unclasping his large hands, 
like a man full of grief and perplexity. Ere long 
he remembered his friend Semple. This trouble 
concerned him also, for Captain Hyde was in a 
manner his guest; and, if he were informed of the 
marriage arranged between Katherine and Neil 
Semple, he would doubtless feel himself bound in 
honor to retire. Elder Semple had opened his 
house to Colonel Gordon, his wife and nephew. 
For months they had lived in comfort under his 
roof, and been made heartily welcome to the 
best of all he possessed. Joris put himself in 
Hyde’s place ; and he was certain, that, under 
the same circumstances, he would feel it disgrace- 
ful to interfere with the love-affairs of his host’s 
son. 

He found Semple with his hat in his hand, giv- 
ing his last orders before leaving business for the 
day; but when Joris said, “There is trouble, and 
your advice I want,” he returned with him to the 
back of the store, where, through half-opened shut- 
ters, the sunshine and the river-breeze stole into an 
atmosphere laden with the aromas of tea and cof- 
fee and West Indian produce. 

In a few short, strong sentences, Joris put the 
case before Semple. The latter stroked his right 


88 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


knee thoughtfully, and listened. But his first words 
were not very comforting : ‘‘I must say, that it is 
maistly your own fault, Joris. You hae given Neil 
but a half-welcome, and you should hae made sJ 
things plain and positive to Katherine. Such skim- 
ble-skamble, yea and nay kind o’ ways willna do 
wi’ women. Why didna you say to her, out and 
out, 'I hae promised you to Neil Semple, my las- 
sie. He’ll mak’ you the best o’ husbands; you’ll 
marry him at the New Year, and you’ll get gold 
and plenishing and a’ things suitable’ ?” 

“So young she is yet, elder.” 

“She has been o’er auld for you, Joris. Young! 
My certie ! When girls are auld enough for a lover, 
they are a match for any gray head. I’m a thankfu’ 
man that I wasna’ put in charge o’ any o’ them. 
You and your household will hae to keep your e’en 
weel open, or there will be a wedding to which nane 
o’ us will get an invite. But there is little good in 
mair words. Hame is the place we are baith needed 
in. I shall hae to speak my mind to Neil, and like- 
wise to Colonel Gordon ; and you canna put off your 
duty to your daughter an hour longer. Dear me! 
To think, Joris, o’ a man being able to sit wi’ the 
councilors o’ the nation, and yet no match for a 
lassie o’ seventeen !” 

There are men who can talk their troubles away ; 
Joris was not one of them. He was silent when in 
sorrow or perplexity ; silent and ever looking around 
for something to do in the matter. As they walked 
homeward, the elder talked, and Joris pondered, not 


THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE 89 

what was said, but the thoughts and purposes that 
were slowly forming in his own mind. He was 
later than usual, and the tea and the cakes had 
passed their prime condition; but, when Lysbet 
saw the trouble in his eyes, she thought them not 
worth mentioning. Joanna and Batavius were dis- 
cussing their new house then building on the East 
River bank, and they had forgotten all else. But 
Katherine fretted about her father’s delay, and it 
was at her Joris first looked. The veil had now 
been taken from his eyes ; and he noticed her pretty 
dress, her restless glances at the clock, her ill-con- 
cealed impatience at the slow movement of the even- 
ing meal. 

When it was over, Joanna and Batavius went out 
to walk, and Madam Van Heemskirk rose to put 
away her silver and china. ‘‘So warm as it is!” 
said Katherine. “Into the garden I am going, 
mother.” 

“Well, then, there are currants to pull. The dish 
take with you.” 

Joris rose then, and, laying his hand on Kath- 
erine’s shoulder, said: “There is something to talk 
about. Sit down, Lysbet : the door shut close, and 
listen to me.” 

It was impossible to mistake the stern purpose 
on her husband’s face, and Lysbet silently obeyed 
the order. 

“Katherine, Katrijntje, mijn kind, this afternoon 
there comes to the store the young man Captain 
Hyde. To thy father he said many ill words. To 


90 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

him thou shalt never speak again. Thy promise 
give to me.^’ 

She sat silent, with dropped eyes, and cheeks as 
red as the pomegranate flower at her breast. 

''Mijn kind, speak to me.^’ 

''O wee, O weeT 

''Mijn kind, speak to me.’' 

Weeping bitterly, she rose and went to her 
mother, and laid her head upon Lysbet’s shoulder. 

‘Xook now, Joris. One must know the Vhy’ 
and the ‘wherefore.’ What mean you? Whish, 
mijn kindjeT 

“This I mean, Lysbet. No more meetings with 
the Englishman will I have. No love secrets will 
I bear. Danger is with them; yes, and sin too.” 

“Joris, if he has spoken to you, then where is 
the secret?” 

“Too late he spoke. When worked was his own 
selfish way, to tell me of his triumph he comes. It 
is a shameful wrong. Forgive it? No, I will not — 
never !” 

No one answered him; only Katherine’s low 
weeping broke the silence, and for a few moments 
Joris paced the room sorrowful and amazed. Then 
he looked at Lysbet, and she rose and gave her 
place to him. He put his arms around his darling, 
and kissed her fondly. 

'^Mijn kindje, listen to me thy father. It is for 
thy happy life here, it is for thy eternal life, I speak 
to thee. This man for whom thou art weeping is 
not good for thee. He is not of thy faith, he is a 


THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE 91 

Lutheran ; not of thy people, he is an Englishman ; 
not of thy station, he talks of his nobility; a gam- 
bler also, a man of fashion, of loose talk, of prin- 
ciples still more loose. If with the hawk a singing- 
bird might mate happily, then this English soldier 
thou might safely marry. Mijn heste kindje, do I 
love thee?” 

‘‘My father!” 

“Do I love thee?” 

“Yes, yes.” 

“Dost thou, then, love me?” 

She put her arms round his neck, and laid her 
cheek against his, and kissed him many times. 

“Wilt thou go away and leave me, and leave thy 
mother, in our old age? My heart thou would 
break. My gray hairs to the grave would go in 
sorrow. Katrijntje, my dear, dear child, what for 
me, and for thy mother, wilt thou do?” 

“Thy wish — if I can.” 

Then he told her of the provision made for her 
future. He reminded her of NeiFs long affection, 
and of her satisfaction with it until Hyde had wooed 
her from her love and her duty. And, remember- 
ing the elder’s reproach on his want of explicitness, 
he added : “To-morrow, about thy own house, I will 
take the first step. Near my house it shall be; and 
when I walk in my garden, in thy garden I will see 
thee, and only a little fence shall be between us. 
And at the feast of St. Nicholas thou shalt be mar- 
ried; for then thy sisters will be here, thy sisters 
Anna and Cornelia. And money, plenty of money. 


92 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

I will give thee; and all that is proper thy mother 
and thee shall buy. But no more, no more at all, 
shalt thou see or speak to that bad man who has so 
beguiled thee.” 

At this remark Katherine sadly shook her head; 
and Lysbet's face so plainly expressed caution, that 
Joris somewhat modified his last order : “That is, 
little one, no more until the feast of St. Nicholas. 
Then thou wilt be married; and then it is good, if 
it is safe, to forgive all wrongs, and to begin again 
with all the world in peace and good living. Wilt 
thou these things promise me ? me and thy mother ?” 

“Richard I must see once more. That is what I 
ask.” 

*^Richard! So far is it?” 

She did not answer; and Joris rose, and looked 
at the girFs mother inquiringly. Her face expressed 
assent; and he said reluctantly: “Well, then, I will 
as easy make it as I can. Once more, and for one 
hour, thou may see him. But I lay it on thee to tell 
him the truth, for this and for all other time.” 

''Now may I go? He is anigh. His boat I hear 
at the landing;” and she stood up, intent, listening, 
with her fair head lifted, and her wet eyes fixed on 
the distance. 

“Well, be it so. Go.” 

With the words she slipped from the room; and 
Joris called Baltus to bring him some hot coals, and 
began to fill his pipe. As he did so, he watched 
Lysbet with some anxiety. She had offered him 
no sympathy, she evinced no disposition to continue 


THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE 


93 


the conversation; and, though she kept her face 
from him, he understood that all her movements 
expressed a rebellious temper. In and out of 
the room she passed, very busy about her own 
affairs, and apparently indifferent to his anxiety 
and sorrow. 

At first Joris felt some natural anger at her atti- 
tude; but, as the Virginia calmed and soothed him, 
he remembered that he had told her nothing of his 
interview with Hyde, and that she might be feeling 
and reasoning from a different standpoint from him- 
self. Then the sweetness of his nature was at once 
in the ascendant ; and he said : ‘Tysbet, come then, 
and talk with me about the child.” 

She turned the keys in her press slowly, and stood 
by it with them in her hand. ‘‘What has been told 
thee, Joris, to-day? And who has spoken? Tongues 
evil and envious, I am sure of that.” 

“Thou art wrong. The young man to me spoke 
himself. He said, ‘I love your daughter. I want to 
marry her.’ ” 

“Well, then, he did no wrong. And as for 
Katrijntje, it is in nature that a young girl should 
want a lover. It is in nature she should choose 
the one she likes best. That is what I say.” 

“That is what I say, Lysbet. It is in nature, also, 
that we want too much food and wine, too much 
sleep, too much pleasure, too little work. It is in 
nature that our own way we want. It is in nature 
that the good we hate, and the sin we love. My 
Lysbet, to us God gives his own good grace, that 


94 the bow of orange RIBBON 

the things that are in nature we might put below 
the reason and the will.” 

“So hard that is, Joris.” 

“No, it is not; so far thou hast done the right 
way. When Katherine was a babe, it was in nature 
that with the fire she wanted to make play. But 
thou said, ‘There is danger, my precious one;’ and 
in thy arms thou carried her out of the temptation. 
When older she grew, it was in nature she said, ‘I 
like not the school, and my Heidelberg is hard, and 
I can not learn it.’ But thou answered, ‘For thy 
good is the school, and go thou every day; and for 
thy salvation is thy catechism, and I will see that 
thou learn it well.’ Now, then, it is in nature the 
child should want this handsome stranger ; but with 
me thou wilt certainly say, ‘He is not fit for thy 
happiness : he has not the true faith, he gambles, he 
fights duels, he is a waster, he lives badly, he will 
take thee far from thy own people and thy own 
home.’ ” 

“Can the man help that he was born an English- 
man and a Lutheran?” 

“They have their own women. Look now, from 
the beginning it has been like to like. Thou may 
see in the Holy Scriptures, that, after Esau married 
the Hittite woman, he sold his birthright, and be- 
came a wanderer and a vagabond. And it is said 
that it was a ‘grief of mind unto Isaac and to Re- 
bekah.’ I am sorry this day for Isaac and Rebekah. 
The heart of the father is the same always.” 

“And the heart of the mother, also, Joris.” She 


THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE 


95 


drew dose to him, and laid her arm across his broad 
shoulders; and he took his pipe from his lips, and 
turned his face to her. ‘‘Kind and wise art thou, 
my husband; and whatever is thy wish, that is my 
wish too.’' 

“A good woman thou art. And what pleasure 
would it be to thee if Katherine was a countess, and 
went to the court, and bowed down to the king and 
the queen? Thou would not see it; and, if thou 
spoke of it, thy neighbors they would hate thee, and 
mock thee behind thy back, and say, ‘How proud is 
Lysbet Van Heemskirk of her noble son-in-law that 
comes never once to see her!’ And dost thou be- 
lieve he is an earl? Not I.” 

“That is where the mother’s love is best, Joris. 
What my neighbors said would be little care to me, 
if my Katherine was well and was happy. With her 
sorrow would I buy my own pleasure? No; I would 
not so selfish be.” 

“Would I, Lysbet? Right am I, and I know I 
am right. And I think that Neil Semple will be a 
very great person. Already, as a man of affairs, 
he is much spoken of. He is handsome and of good 
morality. The elders in the kirk look to such young 
men as Neil to fill their places when they are no 
more in them. On the judge’s bench he will sit 
down yet.” 

“A good young man he may be, but he is a very 
bad lover; that is the truth. If a little less wise he 
could only be I A young girl likes some foolish talk. 
It is what women understand. Little fond words, 


96 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

very strong" they are ! Thou thyself said them to 
me.” 

‘That is right. To Neil I will talk a little. A 
man must seek a good wife with more heart than 
he seeks gold. Yes, yes; her price above rubies is.” 

At the very moment Joris made this remark, the 
elder was speaking for him. When he arrived at 
home, he found that his wife was out making calls 
with Mrs. Gordon, so he had not the relief of a 
marital conversation. He took his solitary tea, and 
fell into a nap, from which he awoke in a queru- 
lous, uneasy temper. Neil was walking about the 
terrace, and he joined him. 

“You are stepping in a vera majestic way, Neil : 
what’s in your thoughts, I wonder ?” 

“I have a speech to make to-morrow, sir. My 
thoughts were on the law, which has a certain maj- 
esty of its own.” 

“You’d better be thinking o’ a speech you ought 
to make to-night, if you care aboot saving yoursel’ 
wi’ Katherine Van Heemskirk; and it will be an 
extraordinar’ case that is worth mair, even in the 
way o’ siller, than she is.” 

The elder was not in the habit of making un- 
meaning speeches, and Neil was instantly alarmed. 
In his own way, he loved Katherine with all his 
soul. “Yes,” continued the old man, “you hae a 
rival, sir. Captain Hyde asked Van Heemskirk 
for his daughter this afternoon, and an earldom 
in prospect isna a poor bait.” 

“What a black scpun^r^l he must be! — to use 


97 


THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE 

your hospitality to steal from your son the woman 
he loves.’^ 

“Tak’ your time, Neil, and you won’t lose your 
judgment. How was he to ken that Katherine was 
your sweetheart? You made litte ’o the lassie, vera 
little, I may say. Lawyer-like you may be, but nane 
could call you lover-like. And while he and his are 
my guests, and in my house. I’ll no hae you fight- 
ing him. Tak’ a word o’ advice now — I’ll gie it 
without a fee — you are fond enough to plead for 
others, go and plead an hour for yoursel’. Gertie! 
When I was your age, I was ay noted for my per- 
suading way. Your father, sir, never left a spare 
corner for a rival. And I can tell you this : a wo- 
man isna to be counted your ain, until you hae her 
inside a wedding-ring.” 

*What did the councilor say?” 

“To tell the truth, he said ‘no,’ a vera plain ‘no,’ 
too. You ken Van Heemskirk’s ‘no’ isn’t a shilly- 
shallying kind o’ a negative; but for a’ that, if I 
hae any skill in judging men, Richard Hyde isna 
one o’ the kind that tak’s ‘no’ from either man or 
woman.” 

Neil was intensely angry, and his dark eyes 
glowed beneath their dropped lids with a passion- 
ate hate. But he left his father with an assumed 
coldness and calmness which made him mutter as 
he watched Neil down the road, “I needna hae 
’fashed mysel’ to warn him against fighting. He’s 
a prudent lad. It’s no right to fight, and it would 
be a matter for a kirk session likewise; but Bruce 


98 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

and Wallace! was there ever a Semple, before Neil, 
that keepit his hand off his weapon when his love 
or his right was touched? And there’s his mother 
out the night, of all the nights in the year, and me 
wanting a word o’ advice sae bad; not that Janet 
has o’er much good sense, but whiles she can make 
an obsarve that sets my ain wisdom in a right line 
o’ thought. I wish to patience she’d bide at home. 
She never kens when I may be needing her. And, 
now I come to think o’ things, it will be the warst 
o’ all bad hours for Neil to seek Katherine the night. 
She’ll be fretting, and the mother pouting, and the 
councilor in ane o’ his particular Dutch touch-me- 
not tempers. I do hope the lad will hae the uncom- 
mon sense to let folks cool, and come to theirsel’s 
a wee.” 

For the elder, judging his son by the impetuosity 
of his own youthful temper, expected him to go di- 
rectly to Van Heemskirk’s house. But there were 
qualities in Neil which his father forgot to take into 
consideration, and their influence was to suggest to 
the young man how inappropriate a visit to Kath- 
erine would be at that time. Indeed, he did not 
much desire it. He was very angry with Katherine. 
He was sure that she understood his entire devotion 
to her. He :ould not see any necessity to set it 
forth as particularly as a legal contract, in certain 
set phrases and conventional ceremonies. 

But his father’s sarcastic advice annoyed him, and 
he wanted time to fully consider his ways. He was 
no physical coward : he was a fine swordsman, and 


THE BEGINNING OF STRIFE gg 

he felt that it would be a real joy to stand with a 
drawn rapier between himself and his rival. But 
what if revenge cost him too much? What if he 
slew Hyde, and had to leave his love and his home, 
and his fine business prospects ? To win Katherine, 
and to marry her, in the face of the man whom he 
felt that he detested : would not that be the best of 
all “satisfactions’’? 

He walked about the streets, discussing these 
points with himself, till the shops all closed, and on 
the stoops of the houses in Maiden Lane and Liberty 
Street there were merry parties of gossiping belles 
and beaux. 

Then he returned to Broadway. Half a dozen 
gentlemen were standing before the King’s Arms 
Tavern, discussing some governmental statement 
in the “Weekly Mercury”; but though they asked 
him to stop, and enlighten them on some legal 
point, he excused himself for that night, and went 
toward Van Heemskirk’s. He had suddenly re- 
solved upon a visit. Why should he put off until 
the morrow what he might begin that night? 

Still debating with himself, he came to a narrow 
road which ran to the river, along the southern side 
of Van Heemskirk’s house. It was only a trodden 
path used by fishermen, and made by usage through 
the unenclosed ground. But coming swiftly up it, 
as if to detain him, was Captain Hyde. The two 
men looked at each other defiantly; and Neil said 
with a cold, meaning emphasis: 

“At your service, sir.” 


loo THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


‘‘Mr. Semple, at your service” — and touching his 
sword — “to the very hilt, sir.” 

“Sir, yours to the same extremity.” 

“As for the cause, Mr. Semple, here is it;” and 
he pushed aside his embroidered coat in order to 
exhibit to Neil the bow of orange ribbon beneath it. 

“I will dye it crimson in your blood,” said Neil 
passionately. 

“In the mean time, I have the felicity of wearing 
it;” and with an offensively deep salute, he termi- 
nated the interview. 


CHAPTER VI 


AT THE sword’s POINT 

^‘Revenge is but a frailty incident 
To crazed and sickly minds; the poor content 
Of little souls, unable to surmount 
An injury, too weak to bear affront.” 

— Oldham. 

“Love and a «rown no rival ship can bear. 

Love, love ! Thou sternly dost thy power maintain. 

And wilt not bear a rival in thy reign.” 

— Dryden. 

“There comes my mortal enemy; 

And either he must fall in fight, or I.” 

— Dryden. 

N EIL’S first emotion was not so much one of 
anger as of exultation. The civilization of 
the Semples was scarce a century old; and behind 
them were generations of fierce men, whose hands 
had been on their dirks for a word or a look. ‘T 
shall have him at my sword’s point that was what 
he kept saying to himself as he turned from Hyde 
to Van Heemskirk’s house. The front door stood 
open ; and. he walked through it to the back stoop, 
where Joris was smoking. 

Katherine sat upon the steps of the stoop. Her 
head was in her hand, her eyes red with weeping, 
her whole attitude one of desponding sorrow. But, 

lOI 


102 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


at this hour, Neil was indifferent to adverse circum- 
stances. He was moving in that exultation of spirit 
which may be simulated by the first rapture of good 
wine, but which is only genuine when the soul takes 
entire possession of the man, and makes him for 
some rare, short interval lord of himself, and con- 
temptuous of all fears and doubts and difficulties. 
He never noticed that Joris was less kind than 
usual; but touching Katherine, to arouse -her atten- 
tion, said: “Come with me down the garden, my 
love.^’ 

She looked at him wonderingly. His words and 
manner were strange and potent ; and, although she 
had just been assuring herself that she would resist 
his advances on every occasion, she rose at his re^ 
quest and gave him her hand. 

Then the tender thoughts which had lain so deep 
in his heart flew to his lips, and he wooed her with 
a fervor and nobility as astonishing to himself as 
to Katherine. He reminded her of all the sweet 
intercourse of their happy lives, and of the fidelity 
with which he had loved her. “When I was a lad 
ten years old, and saw you first in your mother’s 
arms, I called you then ‘my little wife.’ Oh, my 
Katherine, my sweet Katherine ! Who is there that 
can take you from me?” 

“Neil, like a brother to me you have been. Like 
a dear brother, I love you. But your wife to be! 
That is not the same. Ask me not that.” 

“Only that can satisfy me, Katherine. Do you 
think I will ever give you up? Not while I live.” 


AT THU SWOrD^S POINT 103 

'‘No one will I marry. With my father and my 
mother I will stay.'’ 

“Yes, till you learn to love me as I love you, with 
the whole soul.” He drew her close to his side, 
and bent tenderly to her face. 

“No, you shall not kiss me, Neil — never again. 
No right have you, Neil.” 

“You are to be my wife, Katherine?” 

“That I have not said.” 

She drew herself from his embrace, and stood 
leaning against an elm tree, watchful of Neil, full 
of wonder at the sudden warmth of his love, and 
half fearful of his influence over her. 

“But you have known it, Katherine, ay, for many 
a year. No words could make the troth-plight 
truer. From this hour, mine and only mine.” 

“Such things you shall not say.” 

“I will say them before all the world. Kathe- 
rine, is it true that an English soldier is wearing 
a bow of your ribbon? You must tell me.” 

“What mean you?” 

“I will make my meaning plain. Is Captain 
Hyde wearing a bow of your orange ribbon?” 

“Can I tell?” 

“Yes. Do not lie to me.” 

“A lie I would not speak.” 

“Did you give him one ? an orange one ?” 

“Yes. A bow of my St. Nicholas ribbon I gave 
him.” 

“Why?” 

“Me he loves, and him I love.” 


104 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

“And he wears it at his breast?’’ 

“On his breast I have seen it. Neil, do not quar- 
rel with him. Do not look so angry. I fear you. 
My fault it is; all my fault, Neil. Only to please 
me he wears it.” 

“You have more St. Nicholas ribbons?” 

“That is so.” 

“Go and get me one. Get a bow, Katherine, and 
give it to me. I will wait here for it.” 

“No, that I will not do. How false, how wicked 
I would be, if two lovers my colors wore !” 

“Katherine, I am in great earnest. A bow of 
that ribbon I must have. Get one for me.” 

“My hands I would cut off first.” 

“Well, then, I will cut my how from Hyde’s 
breast. I will, though I cut his heart out with 
it.” 

He turned from her as he said the words, and, 
without speaking to Joris, passed through the 
garden gate to his own home. His mother and 
Mrs. Gordon, and several young ladies and gen- 
tlemen, were sitting on the stoop, arranging for a 
turtle feast on the East River; and Neil’s advent 
was hailed with ejaculations of pleasure. He 
affected to listen for a few minutes, and then ex- 
cused himself upon the “assurance of having some 
very important writing to attend to.” But, as he 
passed the parlor door, his father called him. The 
elder was casting up some kirk accounts; but, as 
Neil answered the summons, he carefully put the 
extinguisher on one candle, and turned his chair 


’AT THE SWORHS POINT 105 

from the table in a way which Neil understood as 
an invitation for his company. 

A moment’s reflection convinced Neil that it was 
his wisest plan to accede. It was of the utmost 
importance that his father should be kept abso- 
lutely ignorant of his quarrel with Hyde; for Neil 
was certain that, if he suspected their intention to 
fight, he would invoke the aid of the law to preserve 
peace, and such a course would infallibly subject 
him to suspicions which would be worse than death 
to his proud spirit. 

‘'Weel, Neil, my dear lad, you are early hame. 
Where were you the night ?” 

“I have just left Katherine, sir, having followed 
your advice in my wooing. I wish I had done so 
earlier.” 

‘‘Ay, ay; when a man is seventy years auld, he 
has read the book o’ life, ’specially the chapter anent 
women, and he kens a’ about them. A bonnie lass 
expects to hae a kind o’ worship; but the service is 
na unpleasant, quite the contrary. Did you see Cap' 
tain Hyde?” 

“We met near Broadway, and exchanged civili- 
ties.” 

“A gude thing to exchange. When Gordon gets 
back frae Albany, I’ll hae a talk wi’ him, and I’ll 
get the captain sent there. In Albany there are 
bonnie lasses and rich lasses in plenty for him to 
try his enchantments on. There was talk o’ sending 
him there months syne : it will be done ere long, or 
my name isna Alexander Semple.” 


lo6 THR BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

‘'1 see you are casting up the kirk accounts. Can 
I help you, father?” 

“I hae everything ready for the consistory. Neil, 
^vhat is the gude o’ us speaking o’ this and that, and 
thinking that we are deceiving each other? I am 
vera anxious anent affairs between Captain Hyde 
and yoursel’ ; and I’m ’feared you’ll be coming to 
hot words, maybe to blows, afore I manage to put 
twa hundred miles atween you. My lad, my ain 
dear lad! You are the Joseph o’ a’ my sons; you 
are the joy o’ your mother’s life. For our sake, 
keep a calm sough, and dinna let a fool provoke 
you to break our hearts, and maybe send you into 
God’s presence uncalled and unblessed.” 

“Father, put yoursel’ in my place. How would 
you feel toward Captain Hyde?” 

“Weel, I’ll allow that I wouldna feel kindly. I 
dinna feel kindly to him, even in my ain place.” 

“As you desire it, we will speak plainly to each 
other anent this subject. You know his proud and 
hasty temper; you know also that I am more like 
yourself than like Moses in the way of meekness. 
Now, if Captain Hyde insults me, what course would 
you advise me to adopt?” 

“I wouldna gie him the chance to insult you. I 
would keep oot o’ his way. There is naething 
unusual or discreditable in taking a journey to 
Boston, to speir after the welfare o’ your brother 
Alexander.” 

“Oh, indeed, sir, I can not leave my affairs for 
an insolent and ungrateful fool! I ask your advice 


AT THE SWORD^S POINT 


107 

for the ordinary way of life, not for the way that 
cowardice or fear dictates. If without looking for 
him, or avoiding him, we meet, and a quarrel is 
inevitable, what then, father?” 

''Ay, weel, in that case, God prevent it ! But in 
sic a strait, my lad, it is better to gie the insult than 
to tak^ it.” 

"You know what must follow?” 

"Wha doesna ken? Blood, if not murder. Neil, 
you are a wise and prudent lad: now, isna the 
sword o’ the law sharper than the rapier o’ 
honor ?” 

"Law has no remedy for the wrongs men of honor 
redress with the sword. A man may call me every 
shameful name ; but, unless I can show some actual 
loss in money or money’s worth, I have no redress. 
And suppose that I tried it, and that after long 
sufferance and delays I got my demands, pray, sir, 
tell me, how can offenses which have flogged a man’s 
most sacred feelings be atoned for by something to 
put in the pocket?” 

"Society, Neil — ” 

"Society, father, always convicts and punishes the 
man who takes an insult on view, without waiting 
for his indictment or trial. 

"There ought to be a law, Neil — ” 

"No law will administer itself, sir. The statute- 
book is a dead letter when it conflicts with public 
opinion. There is not a week passes but you may 
see that for yourself, father. If a man is insulted, 
he must protect his honor; and he will do so until 


io8 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


the law is able to protect him better than his own 
strength.” 

‘There is another way — a mair Christian way — ” 

“The world has not taken it yet; at any rate, I 
am very sure none of the Semples have.” 

“You are, maybe, o’er sure, Neil. Deacon Van 
Vorst has said mair than my natural man could 
thole, many a time, in the sessions and oot o’ them; 
but the dominie ay stood between us wi’ his word, 
and we hae managed so far to keep the peace, 
though a mair pig-headed, provoking, pugnacious 
auld Dutchman never sat down on the dominie’s left 
hand.” 

“Then, father, if Captain Hyde should quarrel 
with me, and if he should challenge me, you advise 
me to refuse the challenge, and to send for the 
dominie to settle the matter?” 

“I didna say the like o’ that, Neil. I am an auld 
man, and Van Vorst is an aulder one. We’d be 
a bonnie picture wi’ drawn swords in oor shaking 
hands; though, for mysel’, I may say that there 
wasna a better fencer in Ayrshire, and that the 
houses o’ Lockerby and Lanark hae reason to re- 
member. And I wouldna hae the honor o’ the 
Semples doubted : I’d fight mysel’ first. But I’m 
in a sair strait, Neil; and oh, my dear lad, what 
will I say, when it’s the Word o’ the Lord on one 
hand, and the scaith and scorn of a’ men on the 
other? But I’ll trust to your prudence, Neil, and 
no begin to feel the weight o’ a misery that may 
ne’er come my way. All my life lang, when evils 


AT THE SWORD’S POINT log 

hae threatened me, I hae sought God's help; and 
He has either averted them or turned them to my 
advantage." 

“That is a good consolation, father." 

“It is that; and I ken nae better plan for life 
than, when I rise up, to gie mysel' to His direction, 
and, when I lay me down to sleep, to gie myseh to 
his care." 

“In such comfortable assurance, sir, I think we 
may say good night. I have business early in the 
morning, and may not wait for your company, if 
you will excuse me so far." 

“Right, vera right, Neil. The dawn has gold 
in its hand. I used to be an early worker mysel'; 
but Tm an auld man noo, and may claim some privi- 
leges. Good night, Neil, and a good morning to 
follow it." 

Neil then lit his candle; and, not forgetting that 
courteous salute which the young then always ren- 
dered to honorable age, he went slowly upstairs, 
feeling suddenly a great weariness and despair. If 
Katherine had . only been true to him ! He was 
sure, then, that he could have fought almost joy- 
fully any pretender to her favor. But he was de- 
serted by the girl whom he had loved all her sweet 
life. He was betrayed by the man who had shared 
the hospitality of his home, and, in the cause of such 
loss, compelled to hazard a life opening up with fair 
hopes to honor and distinction. 

In the calm of his own chamber, through the 
silent, solemn hours, when the world was shut out 


no THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


of his life, Neil reviewed his position ; but he could 
find no honorable way out of his predicament. 
Physically, he was as brave as brave could be; 
morally, he had none of that grander courage which 
made Joris Van Heemskirk laugh to scorn the idea 
of yielding God’s gift of life at the demand of a 
passionate fool. He was quite sensible that his first 
words to Captain Hyde that night had been intended 
to provoke a quarrel, and he knew that he would 
be expected to redeem them by a formal defiance. 
However, as the idea became familiar it became 
imperative ; and at length it was with a fierce satis- 
faction he opened his desk and without hesitation 
wrote the decisive words: 

'To Captain Richard Hyde of his Majesty’s 

Service. 

'TzV — A person of the character I bear can not 
allow the treachery and dishonorable conduct of 
which you have been guilty to pass without pun- 
ishment. Convince me that you are more of a 
gentleman than I have reason to believe, by meet- 
ing me to-night as the sun drops in the wood on 
the Kalchhook Hill. Our seconds can locate the 
spot; and that you may have no pretense to delay, 
I send by bearer two swords, of which I give you 
the privilege to make choice. 

“In the interim, at your service, 

“Neil Semple.” 

He had already selected Adrian Beekman as his 
second. He was a young man of wealth and good 


AT THE SWORD^S POINT 


III 


family, exceedingly anxious for social distinction, 
and, moreover, so fastidiously honorable that Neil 
felt himself in his hands to be beyond reproach. 
As he anticipated, Beekman accepted the duty with 
alacrity, and, indeed, so promptly carried out his 
principal’s instructions that he found Captain Hyde 
still sleeping when he waited upon him. But Hyde 
was neither astonished nor annoyed. He laughed 
lightly at “Mr. Semple’s impatience of offense,” and 
directed Mr. Beekman to Captain Earle as his sec- 
ond ; leaving the choice of ^words and of the ground 
entirely to his direction. 

“A more civil, agreeable, handsome gentleman 
impossible it would be to find ; and I think the hot, 
haughty temper of Neil is to blame in this affair,” 
was Beekman’s private comment. But he stood 
watchfully by his principal’s interests, and affected 
a gentlemanly disapproval of Captain Hyde’s be- 
havior. 

And lightly as Hyde had taken the challenge, he 
was really more disinclined to fight than Neil was. 
In his heart he knew that Semple had a just cause 
of anger; “but then,” he argued, “Neil is a proud, 
pompous fellow, for whom I never assumed a 
friendship. His father’s hospitality I regret in any 
way to have abused; but who the deuce could have 
suspected that Neil Semple was in love with the 
adorable Katherine ? In faith, I did not at the first, 
and now ’tis too late. I would not resign the girl 
for my life; for I am sensible that life, if she is 
another’s, will be a very tedious thing to me.” 


1 12 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


All day Neil was busy in making his will, and 
in disposing of his affairs. He knew himself well 
enough to be certain that, if he struck the first blow, 
he would not hesitate to strike the death-blow, and 
that nothing less than such conclusion would satisfy 
him. Hyde also anticipated a deathly persistence 
of animosity in his opponent, and felt equally the 
necessity for some definite arrangement of his busi- 
ness. Unfortunately, it was in a- very confused 
state. He owed many debts of honor, and Cohen’s 
bill was yet unsettled. He drank a cup of coffee, 
wrote several important letters, and then went to 
Fraunce’s, and had a steak and a bottle of wine. 
During his meal his thoughts wandered between 
Katherine and the Jew Cohen. After it he went 
straight to Cohen’s store. 

It happened to be Saturday; and the shutters 
were closed, though the door was slightly open, 
and Cohen was sitting with his granddaughter in 
the cool shadows of the crowded place. Hyde was 
not in a ceremonious mood, and he took no thought 
of it being the Jew’s sabbath. He pushed wider the 
door, and went clattering into their presence; and 
with an air of pride and annoyance the Jew rose to 
meet him. At the same time, by a quick look of in- 
telligence, he dismissed Miriam; but she did not 
retreat farther than within the deeper shadows of 
some curtains of stamped Moorish leather, for she 
anticipated the immediate departure of the intruder. 

She was therefore astonished when her grand- 
father, after listening to a few sentences, sat down. 


AT THE SWORHS POINT 


113 

and entered into a lengthy conversation. And her 
curiosity 'was also aroused; for, though Hyde had 
often been in the store, she had never hitherto seen 
him in such a sober mood. It was also remarkable 
that on the sabbath her grandfather should receive 
papers, and a ring which she watched Hyde take 
from his finger; and there was, besides, a solemn, 
a final air about the transaction which gave her the 
feeling of some anticipated tragedy. 

When at last they rose, Hyde extended his hand. 
‘‘Cohen,” he said, “few men would have been as 
generous and, at this hour, as considerate as you. 
I have judged from tradition, and misjudged 
you. Whether we meet again or not, we part 
as friends.” 

“You have settled all things as a gentleman, cap- 
tain. May my white hairs say a word to your heart 
this hour?” Hyde bowed; and he continued, in a 
voice of serious benignity : “The words of the Holy 
One are to be regarded, and not the words of men. 
Men call that ‘honor’ which He will call murder. 
What excuse is there in your lips if you go this 
night into His presence?” 

There was no excuse in Hyde’s lips, even for 
his mortal interrogator. He merely bowed again, 
and slipped through the partially opened door into 
the busy street. Then Cohen put clean linen upon 
his head and arm, and went and stood v/ith his face 
to the east, and recited, in low, rhythmical sentences, 
the prayer called the “Assault.” Miriam sat quiet 
during his devotion; but, when he returned to his 


1 14 THE BOW. OF ORANGE RIBBON 

place, she asked him plainly : ‘'What murder is there 
to be, grandfather ?” 

“It is a duel between Captain Hyde and another. 
It shall be called murder at the last.” 

“The other, who is he?” 

“The young man Semple.” 

“I am sorry. He is a courteous young man. I 
have heard you say so. I have heard you speak 
well of him.” 

“Oh, Miriam, what sin and sorrow thy sex ever 
bring to those who love it! There are two young 
lives to be put in death peril for the smile of a 
woman — a very girl she is.” 

“Do I know her, grandfather?” 

“She passes here often. The daughter of Van 
Heemskirk — the little fair one, the child.” 

“Oh, but now I am twice sorry! She has smiled 
at me often. We have even spoken. The good old 
man, her father, will die; and her brother, he was 
always like a watch-dog at her side.” 

“But not the angels in heaven can watch a 
woman. For a lover, be he good or bad, she will 
put heaven behind her back, and stand on the brink 
of perdition. Miriam, if thou should deceive me 
— as thy mother did — God of Israel, may I not 
know it!” 

^‘Though I die, I will not deceive you, grand- 
father.” 

“The Holy One hears thee, Miriam. Let Him 
be between us.” 

Then Cohen, with his hands on his staff, and 


AT THE SWORD^S POINT 


115 

his head in them, sat meditating, perhaps praying; 
and the hot, silent moments went slowly away. In 
them, Miriam was coming to a decision which at 
first alarmed her, but which, as it grew familiar, 
grew also lawful and kind. She was quite cer- 
tain that her grandfather would not interfere be- 
tween the young men, and probably he had given 
Hyde his promise not to do so; but she neither 
had received a charge, nor entered into any obliga- 
tion, of silence. A word to Van Heemskirk or to 
the Elder Semple would be sufficient. Should she 
not say it? Her heart answered although 

she did not clearly perceive how the warning was 
to be given. 

Perhaps Cohen divined her purpose, and was not 
unfavorable to it; for he suddenly rose, and, put- 
ting on his cap, said : ‘‘I am going to see my kins- 
man John Cohen. At sunset, set wide the door : an 
hour after sunset I will return.” 

As soon as he had gone, Miriam wrote to Van 
Heemskirk these words: 

‘‘Good Sir — This is a matter of life and death: 
so then, come at once, and I will tell you. 

“Miriam Cohen.” 

With the slip of paper in her hand, she stood 
within the door, watching for some messenger she 
could trust. It was not many minutes before 
Van Heemskirk’s driver passed, leading his loaded 
wagon; and to him she gave the note. 


ii6 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


That day Joris had gone home earlier than usual, 
and Bram only was in the store. But it was part 
of his duty to open and attend to orders, and he 
supposed the strip of paper to refer to a barrel of 
flour or some other household necessity. 

Its actual message was so unusual and unlooked 
for, that it took him a moment or two to realize 
the words; then, fearing it might be some prac- 
tical joke, he recalled the driver, and heard with 
amazement that the Jew’s granddaughter had her- 
self given him the message. Assured of this fact, 
he answered the summons for his father promptly. 
Miriam was waiting just within the door; and, 
scarcely heeding his explanation, she proceeded at 
once to give him such information as she possessed. 
Bram was slow of thought and slow of speech. He 
stood gazing at the beautiful, earnest girl, and felt 
all the fear and force of her words; but for some 
moments he could not speak, nor decide on his first 
step. 

“Why do you wait?” pleaded Miriam. “At sun- 
set, I tell you. It is now near it. Oh, no thanks! 
Do not stop for them, but hasten away at once.” 

He obeyed like one in a dream; but, before he 
reached Semple’s store, he had fully realized the 
situation. Semple was just leaving business. He 
put his hand on him, and said: “Elder, no time 

have you to lose. At sunset, Neil and that d 

English soldier, a duel are to fight.” 

“Eh? Where? Who told you?” 

“On the Kalchhook Hill. Stay not for talk.’' 


AT THE SWORD’S POINT 


117 

‘‘Run for your father, Bram. Run, my lad. Get 
Van Gaasbeeck’s light wagon as you go, and ask 
your mother for a mattress. Dinna stand glower- 
ing at me, but awa’ with you. Fll tak’ twa o’ my 
ain lads and my ain wagon, and be there instanter. 
God help me ! God spare the lad !” 

At that moment Neil and Hyde were on their 
road to the fatal spot. Neil had been gathering 
anger all day; Hyde, a vague regret. The folly 
of what they were going to do was clear to both; 
but Neil was dominated by a fury of passion, which 
made the folly a revengeful joy. If there had been 
any thought of an apology in Hyde’s heart, he must 
have seen its hopelessness in the white wrath of 
Neil’s face, and the calm deliberation with which 
he assumed and prepared for a fatal termination of 
the affair. 

The sun dropped as the seconds measured off the 
space and offered the lot for the standing ground. 
Then Neil flung off his coat and waistcoat, and 
stood with bared breast on the spot his second in- 
dicated. This action had been performed in such a 
passion of hurry, that he was compelled to watch 
Hyde’s more calm and leisurely movements. He 
removed his fine scarlet coat and handed it to Cap- 
tain Earle, and would then have taken his sword; 
but Beekman advanced to remove also his waist- 
coat. The suspicion implied by this act roused the 
soldier’s indignation. “Do you take me to be a per- 
son of so little honor?” he passionately asked; and 
then with his own hands he tore off the richly em- 


ii8 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


broidered satin garment, and by so doing exposed 
what perhaps some delicate feeling had made him 
wish to conceal — a bow of orange ribbon which he 
wore above his heart. 

The sight of it to Neil was like oil flung upon 
flame. He could scarcely restrain himself until the 
word ‘'go'' gave him license to charge Hyde, which 
he did with such impetuous rage that it was evi- 
dent he cared less to preserve his own life than to 
slay his enemy. 

Hyde was an excellent swordsman, and had 
fought several duels; but he was quite disconcerted 
by the deadly reality of Neil’s attack. In the sec- 
ond thrust, his foot got entangled in a tuft of grass ; 
and, in evading a lunge aimed at his heart, he fell 
on his right side. Supporting himself, however, on 
his sword hand, he sprang backward with great 
dexterity, and thus escaped the probable death-blow. 
But, as he was bleeding from a wound in the throat, 
his second interfered, and proposed a reconciliation. 
Neil angrily refused to listen. He declared ‘‘he had 
not come to enact a farce’’ ; and then, happening to 
glance at the ribbon on Hyde’s breast, he swore furi- 
ously he would make his way through the body 
of any man who stood between him and his just 
anger. 

Up to this point, there had been in Hyde’s mind 
a latent disinclination to slay Neil. After it, he 
flung away every kind memory; and the fight was 
renewed with an almost brutal impetuosity, until 
there ensued one of those close locks which it was 


AT THE SWORD^S POINT 


iig 


evident nothing but “the key of the body could 
open/' In the frightful wrench which followed, 
the swords of both men sprang from their hands, 
flying some four or five yards upward with the 
force. Both recovered their weapons at the same 
time, and both, bleeding and exhausted, would 
have again renewed the fight, but at that moment 
Van Heemskirk and Semple, with their attendants, 
reached the spot. 

Without hesitation, they threw themselves be- 
tween the young men — Van Heemskirk facing 
Hyde, and the elder his son. “Neil, you dear lad, 
you born fool, gie me your weapon instanter, sir!" 
But there was no need to say another word. Neil 
fell senseless upon his sword, making in his fall a 
last desperate effort to reach the ribbon on Hyde's 
breast; for Hyde had also dropped fainting to the 
ground, bleeding from at least half a dozen wounds. 
Then one of Semple’s young men, who had prob- 
ably divined the cause of quarrel, and who felt a 
sympathy for his young master, made as if he would 
pick up the fatal bit of orange satin, now dyed crim- 
son in Hyde's blood. 

But Joris pushed the rifling hand fiercely away. 
“To touch it would be the vilest theft," he said. 
“His own it is. With his life he has bought it." 


CHAPTER Vn 


AT ‘"the king’s arms” 

*'A11 these inconveniences are incidental to love — reproaches, 
jealousies, quarrels, reconcilements, war and then peace.” 

—Terence. 

“I know I felt Love’s face 
Pressed on my neck, with moan of pity and grace. 

Till both our heads were in his aureole.” 

— Rossetti. 

T he news of the duel spread with the pro- 
verbial rapidity of evil news. At the doors 
of all the public houses, in every open shop, on 
every private stoop, and at the street-corners, peo- 
ple were soon discussing the event, with such ad- 
ditions and comments as their imaginations and 
prejudices suggested. One party insisted that law- 
yer Semple was dead; another, that it was the En- 
glish officer; a third, that both died as they were 
being carried from the ground. 

Batavius, who had lingered to the last moment 
at the house which he was building, heard the story 
from many a lip as he went home. He was bitterly 
indignant at Katherine. He felt, indeed, as if his 
own character for morality of every kind had been 
smirched by his intended connection with her. And 
his Joanna! How wicked Katherine had been not 
to remember that she had a sister whose spotless 
120 


AT ^‘THE KING’S ARMS” 


I2I 


name would be tarnished by her kinship! He was 
hot with haste and anger when he reached Van 
Heemskirk's house. 

Madam stood with Joanna on the front stoop, 
looking anxiously down the road. She was aware 
that Bram had called for his father, and she had 
heard them leave the house together in unexplained 
haste. At first, the incident did not trouble her 
much. Perhaps one of the valuable Norman horses 
was sick, or there was an unexpected ship in, or 
an unusually large order. Bram was a young man 
who relied greatly on his father. She only worried 
because supper must be delayed an hour, and that 
delay would also keep back the completion of that 
exquisite order in which it was her habit to leave 
the house for the Sabbath rest. 

After some time had elapsed, she went upstairs, 
and began to lay out the clean linen and the kirk 
clothes. 

Suddenly she noticed that it was nearly dark; 
and, with a feeling of hurry and anxiety, she re- 
membered the delayed meal. Joanna was on the 
front stoop watching for Batavius, who was also 
unusually late; and, like many other loving women, 
she could think of nothing good which might have 
detained him, but her heart was full only of evil 
apprehensions. 

^‘Where is Katherine?” That was the mother's 
first question, and she called her through the house. 
From the closed best parlor, Katherine came, white 
and weeping. 


122 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

'‘What IS the matter, then, that you are crying? 
And why into the dark room go you?” 

“Full of sorrow I am, mother, and I went to the 
room to pray to God; but I can not pray.” 

“ ‘Full of sorrow.’ Yes, for that Englishman 
you are full of sorrow. And how can you pray 
when you are disobeying your good father? God 
will not hear you.” 

The mother was not pitiless; but she was anxious 
and troubled, and Katherine’s grief irritated her at 
the moment. “Go and tell Dinorah to bring in the 
tea. The work of the house must go on,” she mut- 
tered. “And I think, that it was Saturday night, 
Joris might have remembered.” 

Then she went back to Joanna, and stood with 
her, looking through the gray mist down the road, 
and feeling even the croaking of the frogs and the 
hum of the insects to be an unusual provocation. 
Just as Dinorah said, “The tea is served, madam,” 
the large figure of Batavius loomed through the 
gathering grayness ; and the women waited for him. 
He came up the steps without his usual greeting; 
and his face was so injured and portentous that 
Joanna, with a little cry, put her arms round his 
neck. He gently removed them. 

“No time is this, Joanna, for embracing. A great 
disgrace has come to the family; and I, who have 
always stood up for morality, must bear it too.” 

“Disgrace! The word goes not with our name, 
Batavius ; and what mean you, then ? In one word, 
speak.” 


AT ‘^THE KING’S ARMS” 


123 

But Batavius loved too well any story that was 
to be wondered over, to give it in a word; though 
madam’s manner snubbed him a little, and he said, 
with less of the air of a wronged man : 

‘‘Well, then, Neil Semple and Captain Hyde have 
fought a duel. That is what comes of giving way 
to passion. I never fought a duel. No one should 
make me. It is a fixed principle with me.” 

“But what? And how?” 

“With swords they fought. Like two devils they 
fought, as if to pieces they would cut each other.” 

“Poor Neil! His fault, I am sure, it was not.” 

“Joanna! Neil is nearly dead. If he had been 
in the right, he would not be nearly dead. The 
Lord does not forsake a person who is in the right 
way.” 

In the hall behind them, Katherine stood. The 
pallor of her face, the hopeless droop of her white 
shoulders and arms, were visible in its gloomy 
shadows. Softly as a spirit she walked, as she drew 
nearer to them. 

“And the Englishman ? Is he hurt ?” 

“Killed. He has at least twenty wounds. Till 
morning he will not live. It was the councilor him- 
self who separated the men.” 

“My good Joris, it was like him.” 

For a moment Katherine’s consciousness reeled. 
The roar of the ocean which girds our life round 
was in her ears, the feeling of chill and collapse at 
her heart. But with a supreme will she took pos- 
session of herself. “Weak I will not be. All I will 


124 the bow of orange ribbon 

know. All I will suffer.’' And with these thoughts 
she went back to the room, and took her place at 
the table. In a few minutes the rest followed. Ba- 
tavius did not speak to her. It was also something 
of a cross to him that madam would not talk of 
the event. He did not think that Katherine de- 
served to have her ill-regulated feelings so far con- 
sidered, and he had almost a sense of personal injury 
in the restraint of the whole household. 

He had anticipated madam’s amazement and 
shock. He had felt a just satisfaction in the suf- 
fering he was bringing to Katherine. He had de- 
termined to point out to Joanna the difference 
between herself and her sister, and the blessedness 
of her own lot in loving so respectably and pru- 
dently as she had done. But nothing had happened 
as he expected. The meal, instead of being pleas- 
antly lengthened over such dreadful intelligence, 
was hurried and silent. Katherine, instead of 
making herself an image of wailing or unconscious 
remorse, sat like other people at the table, and 
pretended to drink her tea. 

It was some comfort that after it Joanna and 
he could walk in the garden, and talk the affair 
thoroughly over. Katherine watched them away, 
and then she fled to her room. For a few minutes 
she could let her sorrow have way, and it would help 
her to bear the rest. And oh, how she wept ! She 
took from their hiding-place the few letters her 
lover had written her, and she mourned over them 
as women mourn in such extremities. She kissed 


AT ^‘THE KING^S ARMS’' 


125 

the words with passionate love; she vowed, amid 
her broken ejaculations of tenderness, to be faith- 
ful to him if he lived, to be faithful to his mem- 
ory if he died. She never thought of Neil; or, if 
she did, it was with an anger that frightened her. 
In the full tide of her anguish, Lysbet stood at the 
door. She heard the inarticulate words of wo, and 
her heart ached for her child. She had followed 
her to give her comfort, to weep with her; but she 
felt that hour that Katherine was no more a child 
to be soothed with her mother’s kiss. She had be- 
come a woman, and a woman’s sorrow had found 
her. 

It was near ten o’clock when Joris came home. 
His face was troubled, his clothing disarranged 
and blood-stained; and Lysbet never remembered 
to have seen him so completely exhausted. ‘‘Bram 
is with Neil,” he said : ‘‘He will not be home.” 

“And thou?” 

“I helped them carry — the other. To the ‘King’s 
Arms’ we took him. A strong man was needed 
until their work the surgeons had done. I staid; 
that is all.” 

“Live will he?” 

“His left lung is pierced through. A bad wound 
in the throat he has. At death’s door is he, from 
loss of the blood. But then, youth he has, and a 
great spirit, and hope. I wish not for his death, 
my God knows.” 

“Neil, what of him?” 

“Unconscious he was when I left him at his home. 


126 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


I staid not there. His father and his mother were 
by his side; Bram also. Does Katherine know?’' 

‘‘She knows.” 

“How then?” 

“Oh, Joris, if in her room thou could have heard 
her crying! My heart for her aches, the sorrowful 
one !” 

“See, then, that this lesson she miss not It is 
a hard one, but learn it she must. If thy love would 
pass it by, think this, for her good it is. Many bit- 
ter things are in it. What unkind words will now 
be said ! Also, my share in the matter I must tell in 
the kirk session; and Dominie de Ronde is not one 
slack in giving the reproof. With our own people, 
a disgrace it wilt be counted. Can I not hear Van 
Vleck grumble, ‘Well, now, I hope Joris Van Heems- 
kirk has had enough of his fine English company;’ 
and Elder Brouwer will say, ‘He must marry his 
daughter to an Englishman ; and, see, what has come 
of it;’ and that evil old woman. Madam Van Cor- 
laer, will shake her head and whisper, ‘Yes, neigh- 
bors, and depend upon it, the girl is of a light mind 
and bad morals, and it is her fault ; and I shall take 
care my nieces to her speak no more.’ So it will be : 
Katherine herself will find it so.” 

“The poor child! Sorry am I she ever went to 
Madam Semple’s to see Mrs. Gordon. If thy word 
I had taken, Joris!” 

“If my word the elder also had taken. When 
first he told me that his house he would offer to 
the Gordons, I said to him, ‘So foolish art thou ! In 


AT ^^THE KING^S ARMS^' 


127 

the end, what does not fit will fight.’ If to-night 
thou could have seen Mistress Gordon when she 
heard of her nephew’s hurt. Without one word of 
regret, without one word of thanks, and in a great 
passion, she left the house. For Neil she cared not. 
^He had been ever an envious kill- joy. He had 
ever hated her dear Dick. He had ever been jeal- 
ous of any one handsomer than himself. He was 
a black dog in the manger ; and she hoped, with all 
her heart, that Dick had done for him.’ Beside her- 
self with grief and passion she was, or the elder had 
not borne so patiently her words.” 

‘‘As her own son, she loved him.” 

^Wea, Lysbet; but just one should be. Weary 
and sad am I to-night.” 

The next morning was the Sabbath, and many 
painful questions suggested themselves to Joris and 
Lysbet Van Heemskirk. Joris felt that he must 
not take his seat among the deacons until he had 
been fully exonerated of all blame of blood-guilti- 
ness by the dominie and his elders and deacons in 
full kirk session. Madam could hardly endure the 
thought of the glances that would be thrown at her 
daughter, and the probable slights she would re- 
ceive. Batavius plainly showed an aversion to being 
seen in Katherine’s company. But these things did 
not seem to Joris a sufficient reason for neglecting 
worship. He thought it best for people to face the 
unpleasant consequences of wrong-doing; and he 
added, ‘Tn trouble also, my dear ones, where should 
we go but into the house of the good God?” 


128 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

Katherine had not spoken during the discussion; 
but, when it was over, she said : ^^Mijn vader, mijn 
moeder, to-day I can not go! For me have some 
pity. The dominie I will speak to first; and what 
he says I will do.” 

‘‘Between me and thy moeder thou shalt be.” 

“Bear it I can not. I shall fall down, I shall be 
ill ; and there will be shame and fear, and the service 
to make stop, and then more wonder and more talk, 
and the dominie angry also! At home I am the 
best.” 

“Well, then, so it shall be.” 

But Joris was stern to Katherine, and his anger 
added the last bitterness to her grief. No one had 
said a word of reproach to her ; but, equally, no one 
had said a word of pity. Even Joanna was shy and 
cold, for Batavius had made her feel that one’s own 
sister may fall below moral par and sympathy. “If 
either of the men die,” he had said, “I shall always 
consider Katherine guilty of murder; and nowhere 
in the Holy Scriptures are we told to forgive mur- 
der, Joanna. And even white the matter is uncer- 
tain, is it not right to be careful ? Are we not told 
to avoid even the appearance of evil?” So that, 
with this charge before him, Batavius felt that coun- 
tenancing Katherine in any way was not keeping it. 

And certainly the poor girl might well fear the 
disapproval of the general public, when her own 
family made her feel her fault so keenly. The kirk 
that morning would have been the pillory to her. 
She was unspeakably grateful for the solitude of 


AT ^^THE KING^S ARMS^* 


129 


the house, for space and silence, in which she could 
have the relief of unrestrained weeping. About the 
middle of the morning, she heard Bram’s footsteps. 
She divined why he had come home, and she shrank 
from meeting him until he removed the clothing he 
had worn during the night’s bloody vigil. 

Bram had not thought of Katherine’s staying 
from kirk; and when she confronted him, so tear- 
stained and wobegone, his heart was full of pity for 
her. ‘^My poor little Katherine!” he said; and she 
threw her arms around his neck, and sobbed upon 
his breast if her heart would break., 

''Mijn kleintje, who has grieved thee?” 

''Oh, Bram ! is he dead ?” 

"Who? Neil? I think he will get well once 
more.” 

"What care I for Neil? The wicked one! I wish 
that he might die. Yes, that I do.” 

"Whish ! — that is wrong.” 

"Bram! Bram! A little pity give me. It is the 
other one. Hast thou heard?” 

"How can he live? Look at that sorrow, dear 
one, and ask God to forgive and help thee.” 

"No, I will not look at it. I will ask God every 
moment that he may get well. Could I help that I 
should love him? So kind, so generous, is he! Oh, 
my dear one, my dear one, would I had died for 
thee!” 

Bram was much moved. Within the last twenty- 
four hours he had begun to understand the tempta- 
tion in which Katherine had be^n; begun to under- 


130 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

stand that love never asks, ''What is thy name? Of 
what country art thou ? Who is thy father He 
felt that so long as he lived he must remember 
Miriam Cohen as she stood talking to him in the 
shadowy store. Beauty like hers was strange and 
wonderful to the young Dutchman. He could not 
forget her large eyes, soft and brown as gazels; 
the warm pallor and brilliant carnation of her com- 
plexion ; her rosy, tender mouth ; her abundant black 
hair, fastened with large golden pins, studded with 
jewels. He could not forget the grace of her figure, 
straight and slim as a. young palm tree, clad in a 
plain dark garment, and a neckerchief of white In- 
dia silk falling away from her exquisite throat. He 
did not yet know that he was in love; he only 
felt how sweet it was to sit still and dream of the 
dim place, and the splendidly beautiful girl stand- 
ing among its piled-up furniture and its hanging 
draperies. And this memory of Miriam made him 
very pitiful to Katherine. 

"Every one is angry at me, Bram, even my 
father; and Batavius will not sit on the chair at 
my side; and Joanna says a great disgrace I have 
made for her. And thou? Wilt thou also scold 
me? I think I shall die of grief.’’ 

"Scold thee, thou little one? That I will not. 
And those that are angry with thee may be angry 
with me also. And if there is any comfort I can 
get thee, tell thy brother Bram. He will count thee 
first, before all others. How could they make thee 
weep ? Cruel are they to do so. And as for Bata- 


^^THE KING'S ARMS" 


131 

vius, mind him not. Not much I think of Batavius! 
If he says this or that to thee, I will answer him.’' 

‘‘Bram! my Bram! my brother! There is one 
comfort for me — if I knew that he still lived ; if one 
hope thou could give me !” 

‘‘What hope there is, I will go and see. Before 
they are back from kirk, I will be back ; and, if there 
is good news, I will be glad for thee.” 

Not half an hour was Bram away; and yet, to the 
miserable girl, how grief and fear lengthened out 
the moments! She tried to prepare herself for the 
worst; she tried to strengthen her soul even for the 
message of death. But very rarely is any grief as 
bad as our own terror of it. When Bram came back, 
it was with a word of hope on his lips. 

“I have seen,” he said, “who dost thou think? — 
the Jew Cohen. He of all men, he has sat by Cap- 
tain Hyde’s side all night; and he has dressed the 
wound the English surgeon declared ‘beyond mortal 
skill.’ And he said to me, ‘Three times, in the Per- 
sian desert, I have cured wounds still worse, and the 
Holy One hath given me the power of healing; 
and, if He wills, the young man shall recover.’ That 
is what he said, Katherine.” 

“Forever I will love the Jew. Though he fail, 
I will love him. So kind he is, even to those who 
have not spoken well, nor done well, to him.” 

“So kind, also, was the Son of David to all of 
us. Now, then, go wash thy face, and take comfort 
and courage.” 

“Bram, leave me not.” 


132 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

‘There is Neil. We have been companions; and 
his father and his mother are old, and need me.’' 

“Also, I need thee. All the time they will make 
me to feel how wicked is Katherine Van Heems- 
kirkr 

At this moment the family returned from the 
morning service, and Bram rather defiantly drew 
his sister to his side. Joris was not with them. 
He had stopped at the “King’s Arms” to ask if Cap- 
tain Hyde was still alive; for, in spite of everything, 
the young man’s heroic cheerfulness in the agony 
of the preceding night had deeply touched Joris. 
No one spoke to Katherine, even her mother was 
annoyed and humiliated at the social ordeal through 
which they had just passed, and she thought it only 
reasonable that the erring girt should be made to 
share the trial. 

Batavius, however, had much curiosity; and his 
first thought on seeing Bram at home was, “Neil is 
of course dead, and Bram is of no further use;” 
and, in the tone of one personally injured by such 
a fatality, he ejaculated : 

“So it is the end, then. On the Sabbath day Neil 
has gone. If it should be the Sabbath day in the 
other world — which is likely — it will be the worse 
for Neil.” 

“What mean you ?” 

“Is not Neil Semple dead?” 

“No. I think, also, that he will live.” 

“I am glad. It is good for Katherine.” 

“I see it not.” 


AT ^‘THE KING’S ARMS” 133 

‘‘Well, then, if he dies, is it not Katherine’s 
fault?” 

‘‘Heaven and hell! No! Katherine is not to 
blame.” 

“All respectable and moral people will say so.” 

“Better for them not to say so. If I hear of it, 
then I will make them say it to my face,” 

“Then? Well?” 

“I have my hands and my feet, for them — to 
punish their tongues.” 

“And the kirk session?” 

“Oh, I care not ! What is the kirk session to my 
little Katherine? Batavius, if man or woman you 
hear speak ill of her, tell them it is not Katherine, 
but Bram Van Heemskirk, that will bring every- 
thing back to them. What words I say, them I 
mean.” 

“Oh, yes! And mind this, Bram, the words I 
think, them words I will say, whether you like them 
or like them not.” 

“As the wind you bluster — on the Sabbath day, 
also. In your ship I sail not, Batavius. — Good-by, 
then, Katherine; and if any are unkind to thee, tell 
thy brother. For thou art right, and not wrong.” 

But, though Bram bravely championed his sister, 
he could not protect her from those wicked innu- 
endos disseminated for the gratification of the 
virtuous; nor from those malicious regrets of very 
good people over rumors which they declare to “be 
incredible,” and yet which, nevertheless, they “un- 
fortunately believe to be too true.” The Scotch 


134 the bow of orange RIBBON 

have a national precept which says: ‘'Never speak 
ill of the dead.” Would it not be much better to 
speak no ill of the living ? Little could it have mat- 
tered to Madam Bogardus or Madam Stuyvesant 
what a lot of silly people said of them in Pearl 
Street or Maiden Lane, a century after their death; 
but poor Katherine Van Heemskirk shivered and 
sickened in the presence of averted eyes and up- 
lifted shoulders, and in that chill atmosphere of dis- 
approval which separated her from the sympathy 
and confidence of her old friends and acquaint- 
ances. 

“It is thy punishment,” said her mother; “bear 
it bravely and patiently. In a little while, it will 
be forgot.” But the weeks went on, and the 
wounded men slowly fought death away from their 
pillows, and Katherine did not recover the place in 
social estimation which she had lost through the 
ungovernable tempers of her lovers. For, alas, 
there are few social pleasures that have so much 
vital power as that of exploring the faults of others, 
and comparing them with our own virtues! 

But nothing ill lasts forever ; and in three months 
Neil Semple was in his office again, wan and worn 
with fever and suffering, and wearing his sword 
arm in a sling, but still decidedly world-like and 
life-like. It was characteristic of Neil that few, 
even of his intimates, cared to talk of the duel to 
him, to make any observations on his absence, or 
any inquiries about his health. But it was evident 
that public opinion was in a large measure with 


AT ^‘THE KlNG^S ARMS^' 


135 

him. Every young Provincial, who resented the 
domineering spirit of the army, felt Hyde’s punish- 
ment in the light of a personal satisfaction. Beek- 
man also had talked highly of the unbending spirit 
and physical bravery of his principal; and though 
in the Middle Kirk the affair was sure to be the 
subject of a reproof, and of a suspension of its 
highest privileges, yet it was not difficult to feel that 
sympathy often given to deeds publicly censured, 
but privately admired. Joris remarked this spirit 
with a little astonishment and dissent. Pie could 
not find in his heart any excuse for either Neil 
or Hyde; and, when the elder enlarged with some 
acerbity upon the requirements of honor among 
men, Joris offended him by replying: 

“Well, then, elder, little I think of that ‘honor’ 
which runs not with the laws of God and coun- 
try.” 

“Let me tell you, Joris, the ‘voice of the people 
is the voice of God,’ in a measure ; and you may see 
with your ain een that it mair than acquits Neil 
o’ wrong-doing. Man, Joris! would you punish a 
fair sword-fight wi’ the hangman?” 

“A better way there is. In the pillory I would 
stand these men of honor, who of their own feelings 
think more than of the law of God. A very quick 
end that punishment would put to a custom wicked 
and absurd.” 

“Weel, Joris, we’ll hae no quarrel anent the ques- 
tion. You are a Dutchman, and hae practical ideas 
o’ things in general. Honor is a virtue that canna 


136 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

be put in the Decalogue, like idolatry and murder 
and theft/^ 

‘‘Say you the Decalogue? Its yea and nay are 
enough. Harder than any of God’s laws are the 
laws we make for ourselves. Little I think of 
their justice and wisdom. If right was Neil, if 
wrong was Hyde, honor punished both. A very 
foolish law is honor, I think.” 

“Here comes Neil, and we’ll let the question fa’ 
to the ground. There are wiser men than either 
you or I on baith sides.” 

Joris nodded gravely, and turned to welcome the 
young man. More than ever he liked him; for, 
apart from moral and prudential reasons, it was 
easy for the father to forgive an unreasonable love 
for his Katherine. Also, he was now more anxious 
for a marriage between Neil and his daughter. It 
was indeed the best thing to fully restore her to the 
social esteem of her own people ; for by making her 
his wife, Neil would most emphatically exonerate 
her from all blame in the quarrel. Just this far, 
and no farther, had Neil’s three months’ suffering 
aided his suit — he had now the full approval of 
Joris, backed by the weight of this social justi- 
fication. 

But„ in spite of these advantages, he was really 
much farther away from Katherine. The three 
months had been full of mental suffering to her, 
and she blamed Neil entirely for it. She had heard 
from Bram the story of the challenge and the fight ; 
heard how patiently Hyde had parried Niel’s attack 


AT ‘^THE KINCS ARMS’' 


137 


rather than return it, until Neil had so passionately 
refused any satisfaction less than his life; heard, 
also, how even at the point of death, fainting and 
falling, Hyde had tried to protect her ribbon at his 
breast. She never wearied of talking with Bram 
on the subject; she thought of it all day, dreamed 
of it all night. 

And she knew much more about it than her 
parents or Joanna supposed. Bram had easily 
fallen into the habit of calling at Cohen’s to ask 
after his patient. He would have gone for his sister’s 
comfort alone, but it was also a great pleasure to 
himself. At first he saw Miriam often; and when 
he did, life became a heavenly thing to Bram Van 
Heemskirk. And though latterly it was always the 
Jew himself who answered his questions, there was 
at least the hope that Miriam would be in the store, 
and lift her eyes to him, or give him a smile or a 
few words of greeting. Katherine very soon sus- 
pected how matters stood with her brother, and 
gratitude led her to talk with him about the lovely 
Jewess. Every day she listened with apparent in- 
terest to his descriptions of Miriam, as he had seen 
her at various times; and every day she felt more 
desirous to know the girl whom she was certain 
Bram deeply loved. 

But for some weeks after the duel she could not 
bear to leave the house. It was only after both men 
were known to be recovering that she ventured to 
kirk; and her experience there was not one which 
tempted her to try the streets and the stores. How- 


138 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

ever, no interest is a living interest in a commu- 
nity but politics; and these probably retain their 
power because change is their element. People 
eventually got weary to death of Neil Semple and 
Captain Hyde and Katherine Van Heemskirk. The 
subject had been discussed in every possible light; 
and, when it was known that neither of the men 
was going to die, gossipers felt as if they had been 
somewhat defrauded, and the topic lost every touch 
of speculation. 

Also, far more important events had now the 
public attention. During the previous March, the 
Stamp Act and the Quartering Act had passed 
both Houses of Parliament ; and Virginia and Mas- 
sachusetts, conscious of their dangerous character, 
had roused the fears of the other Provinces; and a 
convention of their delegates was appointed to meet 
during October in New York. It was this impor- 
tant session which drew Neil Semple, with scarcely 
healed wounds, from his chamber. The streets were 
noisy with hawkers crying the detected Acts, and 
crowded with groups of stern-looking men discuss- 
ing them. And, with the prospect of soldiers quar- 
tered in every home, women had a real grievance to 
talk over; and Katherine Van Heemskirk’s love- 
affair became an intrusion and a bore, if any one 
was foolish enough to name it. 

It was during this time of excitement that Kathe- 
rine said one morning, at breakfast: “Bram, wait 
one minute for me. I am going to Kip’s store for 
my mother.” 


AT ^^THE KING^S ARMS^^ 


139 

is a bad time, Katherine, you have chosen,” 
said Batavius. “Full of men are the streets, angry 
men too, and of swaggering British soldiers, whom 
it would be a great pleasure to tie up in a halter. 
The British I hate — bullying curs, every one of 
them !” 

“Well, I know that you hate the British, Batavius. 
You say so every hour.” 

“Katherine !” 

“That is so, Joanna.” 

Madam looked annoyed. Joris rose, and said: 
“Come then, Katherine, thou shalt go with me and 
with Bram both. Batavius need not then fear for 
thee.” 

His voice was so tender that Katherine felt an 
unusual happiness and exaltation; and she was also 
young enough to be glad to see the familiar streets 
again, and to feel the pulse of their vivid life make 
her heart beat quicker. 

At Kip’s store, Bram left her. She had felt so 
free and unremarked that she said : “Wait not for 
me, Bram. By myself I will go home. Or perhaps 
I might call upon Miriam Cohen. What dost thou 
think?” And Bram’s large, handsome face flushed 
like a girl’s with pleasure as he answered : “That I 
would like, and there thou could rest until the 
dinner-hour. As I go home, I could call for thee.” 

So, after selecting the goods her mother needed 
at Kip’s, Katherine was going up Pearl Street, when 
she heard herself called in a familiar and urgent 
voice. At the same moment a door was flung open ; 


140 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

and Mrs. Gordon, running down the few steps, put 
her hand upon the girl’s shoulder. 

“Oh, my dear, this is a piece of good fortune 
past belief! Come into my lodgings. Oh, indeed 
you shall ! I will have no excuse. Surely you owe 
Dick and me some reward after the pangs we have 
suffered for you.” 

She was leading Katherine into the house as she 
spoke; and Katherine had not the will, and there- 
fore not the power, to oppose her. She placed the 
girl by her side on the sofa ; she took her hands, 
and, with a genuine grief and love, told her all that 
“poor Dick” had suffered and was still suffering for 
her sake. 

“It was the most unprovoked challenge, my dear ; 
and Neil Semple behaved like a savage, I assure 
you. When Dick was bleeding from half a dozen 
wounds, a gentleman would have been satisfied, and 
accepted the mediation of the seconds; but Neil, in 
his blind passion, broke the code to pieces. A man 
who can do nothing but be in a rage is a ridiculous 
and offensive animal. Have you seen him since his 
recovery? For I hear that he has crawled out of 
his bed again.” 

“Him I have not seen.” 

“Gracious powers, miss! Is that all you say, 
‘Him I have not seen’? Make me patient with so 
insensible a creature ! Here am I almost distracted 
with my three months’ anxiety; and poor Dick, so 
gone as to be past knowledge, breaking his true 
heart for a sight of you ; and you answer nie ^s if 


AT ^^THE KING’S ARMS” 141 

I had asked : ^Pray, have you seen the newspaper 
to-day?’ ” 

Then Katherine covered her face, and sobbed 
with a hopelessness and abandon that equally fretted 
Mrs. Gordon. ‘‘I wish I knew one corner of this 
world inaccessible to lovers,” she cried. ”Of 
all creatures, they are the most ridiculous and 
unreasonable. Now, what are you crying for, 
child?” 

'Tf I could only see Richard — only see him for 
one moment !” 

‘'That is exactly what I am going to propose. He 
will get better when he has seen you. I will call a 
coach, and we will go at once.” 

“Alas ! Go I dare not. My father and my 
mother !” 

“And Dick — what of Dick, poor Dick, who is 
dying for you?” She went to the door, and gave 
the order for a coach. “Your lover, Katherine. 
Child, have you no heart? Shall I tell Dick you 
would not come with me?” 

“Be not so cruel to me. That you have seen me 
at all, why need you say?” 

“Oh! indeed, miss, do not imagine yourself the 
only person who values the truth. Dick always 
asks me: ‘Have you seen her?’ ’Tis my humor to 
be truthful, and I am always swayed by my inclina- 
tion. I shall feel it to be my duty to inform him 
how indifferent you are. Katherine, put on your 
bonnet again. Here also are my veil and cloak. 
No one will perceive that it is you. It is the part 


142 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

of humanity, I assure you. Do so much for a poor 
soul who is at the grave’s mouth.” 

“My father, I promised him — ” 

“Oh, child! have six pennyworth of common 
feeling about you. The man is dying for your sake. 
If he were your enemy, instead of your true lover, 
you might pity him so much. Do you not wish to 
see Dick?” 

“My life for his life I would give.” 

“Words, words, my dear. It is not your life he 
wants. He asks only ten minutes of your time. 
And if you desire to see him, give yourself the 
pleasure. There is nothing more silly than to be 
too wise to be happy.” 

While thus alternately urging and persuading 
Katherine, the coach came, the disguise was as- 
sumed, and the two drove rapidly to the “King’s 
Arms.” Hyde was lying upon a couch which had 
been drawn close to the window. But in order to 
secure as much quiet as possible, he had been placed 
in one of the rooms at the rear of the tavern — a 
large, airy room, looking into the beautiful garden 
which stretched away backward as far as the river. 
He had been in extremity. He was yet too weak 
to stand, too weak to endure long the strain of 
company or books or papers. 

He heard his aunt’s voice and footfall, and felt, 
as he always did, a vague pleasure in her advent. 
Whatever of life came into his chamber of suffering 
came through her. She brought him daily such in- 
telligences as she thought conducive to his recovery ; 


AT n'HE KINCS ARMS^' 


143 

and it must be acknowledged that it was not always 
her “humor to be truthful.’’ For Hyde had so 
craved news of Katherine that she believed he 
would die wanting it ; and she had therefore fallen, 
without one conscientious scruple, into the reporter’s 
temptation — inventing the things which ought to 
have taken place, and did not. “For, in faith, 
Nigel,” she said to her husband, in excuse, “those 
who have nothing to tell must tell lies.” 

Her reports had been ingenious and diversified. 
“She had seen Katherine at one of the windows — 
the very picture of distraction.” “She had been 
told that Katherine was breaking her heart about 
him;” also, “that Elder Semple and Councilor Van 
Heemskirk had quarreled because Katherine had re- 
fused to see Neil, and the elder blamed Van Heems- 
kirk for not compelling her obedience.” Whenever 
Hyde had been unusually depressed or unusually 
nervous, Mrs. Gordon had always had some such 
comforting fiction ready. Now, here was the real 
Katherine. Her very presence, her smiles, her tears, 
her words, would be a consolation so far beyond all 
hope that the girl by her side seemed a kind of 
miracle to her. 

She was far more than a miracle to Hyde. As 
the door opened, he slowly turned his head. When 
he saw zt/ho was really there, he uttered a low cry 
of joy — a cry pitiful in its shrill weakness. In a 
moment Katherine was close to his side. This was 
no time for coyness, and she was too tender and 
true a woman to feel or to affect it. She kissed 


144 the bow of orange RIBBON 

his hands and face, and whispered on his lips the 
sweetest words of love and fidelity. Hyde was in 
a rapture. His joyful soul made his pale face lumi- 
nous. He lay still, speechless, motionless, watching 
and listening to her. 

Mrs. Gordon had removed Katherine’s veil and 
cloak, and considerately withdrawn to a mirror at 
the extremity of the room, where she appeared to 
be altogether occupied with her own ringlets. But, 
indeed, it was with Katherine and Hyde one of 
those supreme hours when love conquers every other 
feeling. Before the whole world they would have 
avowed their affection, their pity, and their truth. 

Hyde could speak little, but there was no need of 
speech. Had he not nearly died for her? Was not 
his very helplessness a plea beyond the power of 
words? She had only to look at the white shadow 
of humanity holding her hand, and remember the 
gay, gallant, handsome soldier who had wooed her 
under the water-beeches, to feel that all the love of 
her life was too little to repay his devotion. And 
so quickly, so quickly, went the happy moments! 
Ere Katherine had half said, ‘'I love thee,” Mrs. 
Gordon reminded her that it was near the noon; 
“and I have an excellent plan,” she continued : “you 
can leave my veil and cloak in the coach, and I will 
leave you at the first convenient place near your 
home. At the turn of the road, one sees nobody 
but your excellent father or brother, or perhaps Jus- 
tice Van Gaasbeeck, all of whom we may avoid, if 
you will but consider the time.” 


AT ^^THE KING’S ARMS” 145 

'Then we must part, my Katherine, for a little. 
When will you come again?” 

This was a painful question, because Katherine 
felt that, however she might excuse herself for the 
unforeseen stress of pity that all unaware had hur- 
ried her into this interview, she knew she could not 
find the same apology for one deliberate and pre- 
arranged. 

“Only once more,” Hyde pleaded. “I had, my 
Katherine, so many things to say to you. In my 
joy, I forgot all. Come but once more. Upon my 
honor, I promise to ask Katherine Van Heemskirk 
only this once. To-morrow? 'No.’ Two days 
hence, then ?” 

“Two days hence I will come again. Then no 
more.” 

He smiled at her, and put out his hands ; and she 
knelt again by his side, and kissed her “farewell” 
on his lips. And, as she put on again her cloak and 
veil, he drew a small volume toward him, and with 
trembling hands tore out of it a scrap of paper, and 
gave it to her. Under the lilac hedge that night she 
read it, read it over and over — the bit of paper made 
almost warm and sentient by Phcedria’s tender peti- 
tion to his beloved : 

“When you are in company with that other man, 
behave as if you were absent; but continue to love 
me by day and by night; want me, dream of me, 
expect me, think of me, wish for me, delight in me, 
be wholly with me : in short, be my very soul, as I 
am yours.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


‘‘the silver link, the silken tie” 


^‘Love’s reason’s without reason.” 

“Let determined things to destiny 
Hold unbewailed their way.” 

“A very merry, dancing, drinking, 
Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time.” 


I F Katherine had lived at this day, she would 
probably have spent the time between her prom- 
ise and its fulfilment in self-analysis and introspec- 
tive reasoning with her own conscience. But the 
women of a century ago were not tossed about with 
winds of various opinions, or made foolishly subtile 
by arguments about principles which ought never to 
be associated with dissent. A few strong, plain dic- 
tates had been set before Katherine as the law of 
her daily life; and she knew, beyond all contro- 
versy, when she disobeyed them. 

In her own heart, she called the sin she had de- 
termined to commit by its most unequivocal name. 
“I shall make happy Richard ; but my father I shall 
deceive and disobey, and against my own soul there 
will be the lie.” This was the position she admitted, 
but every woman is Eve in some hours of her life. 
The law of truth and wisdom may be in her ears, 
but the apple of delight hangs within her reach; 
146 


‘^THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE^ 147 


and, with a full understanding of the consequences 
of disobedience, she takes the forbidden pleasure. 
And if the vocal, positive command of Divinity was 
unheeded by the first woman, mere mortal parents 
surely ought not to wonder that their commands, 
though dictated by truest love and clearest wisdom, 
are often lightly held, or even impotent against the 
voice of some charmer, pleading personal pleasure 
against duty, and self-will against the law infinitely 
higher and purer. 

In truth, Katherine had grown very weary of the 
perpetual eulogies which Batavius delivered for 
everything respectable and conservative. A kind of 
stubbornness in evil followed her acceptance of evil. 
This time, at least, she was determined to do wrong, 
whatever the consequences might be. Batavius and 
his inflexible propriety irritated her: she had a re- 
bellious desire to give him little moral shocks; and 
she deeply resented his constant injunctions to ‘Re- 
member that Joanna’s and his own good name were, 
in a manner, in her keeping.” 

Very disagreeable she thought Batavius had 
grown, and she also jealously noted the influence 
he was exercising over Joanna. There are women 
who prefer secrecy to honesty, and sin to truthful- 
ness; but Katherine was not one of them. If it had 
been possible to see her lover honorably, she would 
have much preferred it. She was totally destitute 
of that contemptible sentimentality which would 
rather invent difficulties in a love-affair than not 
have them, but she knew well fhe storm of reproach 


148 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

and disapproval which would answer any such re- 
quest ; and her thoughts were all bent toward devis- 
ing some plan which would enable her to leave home 
early on that morning which she had promised her 
lover. 

But all her little arrangements failed ; and it was 
almost at the last hour of the evening previous that 
circumstances offered her a reasonable excuse. It 
came through Batavius, who returned home later 
than usual, bringing with him a great many patterns 
of damask and figured cloth and stamped leather. 
At once he announced his intention of staying at 
home the next morning in order to have Joanna's 
aid in selecting the coverings for their new chairs, 
and counting up their cost. He had taken the strips 
out of his pocket with an air of importance and 
complaisance; and Katherine, glancing from them 
to her mother, thought she perceived a fleeting 
shadow of a feeling very much akin to her own 
contempt of the man’s pronounced self-satisfaction. 
So when supper was over, and the house duties 
done, she determined to speak to her. Joris was 
at a town meeting, and Lysbet did not interfere 
with the lovers. Katherine found her standing at 
an open window, looking thoughtfully into the 
autumn garden. 

“Mijn moeder” 

^‘Mijn kind” 

“Let me go away with Bram in the morning. 
Batavius I can not bear. About every chair-cover 
he will call in the whole house. The only chair- 


*‘THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE^^ 149 


covers in the world they will be. Listen, how he 
will talk: ‘See here, Joanna. A fine piece is this; 
ten shillings and sixpence the yard, and good enough 
for the governor's house. But I am a man of some 
substance — Code zij dank ! — and people will expect 
that I, who give every Sunday twice to the kirk, 
should have chairs in accordance.' Moeder, you 
know how it will be. To-morrow I can not bear him. 
Very near quarreling have we been for a week." 

‘T know, Katherine, I know. Leave, then, w'ith 
Bram, and go first to Margaret Pitt's, and ask her 
if the new winter fashions will arrive from London 
this month. I heard also that Mary Blankaart has 
lost a silk purse, and in it five gold jacobus, and 
some half and quarter Johannes. Ask kindly for 
her, and about the money ; and so the morning could 
be passed. And look now, Katherine, peace is the 
best thing; and to his own house Batavius will go 
in a few weeks." 

“That will make me glad." 

“Whish, mijn kind! Thy bad thoughts should 
be dumb thoughts." 

''Mijn moeder, sad and troubled are thy looks. 
What is thy sorrow?" 

“For thee my heart aches often — mine and thy 
good father's, too. Dost thou not suffer? Can 
thy mother be blind? Nothing hast thou eaten 
lately. Joanna says thou art restless all the night 
long. Thou art so changed then, that wert ever 
such a happy little one. Once thou did love me, 
Katrijntje." 


150 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

^^Ach, mijn moeder, still I love thee!'’ 

‘‘But that English soldier ?" 

“Never can I cease to love him. See, now, the 
love I give him is his love. It never was thine. For 
him I brought it into the world. None of thy love 
have I given to him. Mijn moedery thee I would 
not rob for the whole world ; not 1 1” 

“For all that, kleintjcy hard is the mother's lot. 
The dear children I nursed on my breast, they go 
here and they go there, with this strange one and 
that strange one. Last night, ere to our sleep we 
went, thy father read to me some words of the lov- 
ing, mother-like Jacob. They are true words. 
Every good mother has said them, at the grave 
or at the bridal: ‘En mij aangaande, als ik van 
kinderen beroofd ben, zoo ben ik beroofd !' " ^ 

There was a sad pathos in the homely old words 
as they dropped slowly from Lysbet's lip — a pathos 
that fitted perfectly the melancholy air of the fading 
garden, the melancholy light of the fading day, and 
the melancholy regret for a happy home gradually 
scattering far and wide. Many a year afterward 
Katherine remembered the hour and the words, 
especially in the gray glooms of late October 
evenings. 

The next morning was one of perfect beauty, and 
Katherine awoke with a feeling of joyful expecta- 
tion. She dressed beautifully her pale brown hair; 
and her intended visit to Mary Blankaart gave her 
an excuse for wearing her India silk — the pretty 


** If I am bereaved of my children, I am bereaved.' 


^^THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE^^ 151 

dress Richard had seen her first in, the dress he had 
so often admired. Her appearance caused some re- 
marks, which Madam Van Heemskirk replied to; 
and with much of her old gaiety Katherine walked 
between her father and brother away from home. 

She paid a very short visit to the mantua-maker, 
and then went to Mrs. Gordon’s. There was less 
effusion in that lady’s manner than at her last inter- 
view with Katherine. She had a little spasm of jeal- 
ousy ; she had some doubts about Katherine’s deserts ; 
she wondered whether her nephew really adored the 
girl with the fervor he affected, or whether he had 
determined, at all sacrifices, to prevent her mar- 
riage with Neil Semple. Katherine had never be- 
fore seen her so quiet and so cool ; and a feeling of 
shame sprang up in the girl’s heart. “Perhaps she 
was going to do something not exactly proper in 
Mrs. Gordon’s eyes, and in advance that lady was 
making her sensible of her contempt.” 

With this thought, she rose, and with burning 
cheeks said : ‘T will go home, madam. Now I feel 
that I am doing wrong. To write to Captain Hyde 
will be the best way.” 

“Pray don’t be foolish, Katherine. I am of a 
serious turn this morning, that is all. How pretty 
you are ! and how vastly becoming your gown ! But, 
indeed, I am going to ask you to change it. Yes- 
terday, at the ‘King’s Arms,’ I said my sister would 
arrive this morning with me ; and I bespoke a little 
cotillion in Dick’s rooms. In that dress you will be 
too familiar, my dear. See here, is not this the 


152 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

prettiest fashion ? It is lately come over. So airy ! 
so French! so all that!” 

It was a light blue gown and petticoat of rich 
satin, sprigged with silver, and a manteau of dark 
blue velvet trimmed with bands of delicate fur. 
The bonnet was not one which the present genera- 
tion would call “lovely”; but, in its satin depths, 
Katherine’s fresh, sweet face looked like a rose. 
She hardly knew herself when the toilet was com- 
pleted; and, during its progress, Mrs. Gordon re- 
covered all her animation and interest. 

Before they were ready, a coach was in waiting ; 
and in a few minutes they stood together at Hyde’s 
door. There was a sound of voices within; and, 
when they entered, Katherine saw, with a pang of 
disappointment, a fine, soldierly-looking man in full 
uniform sitting by Richard’s side. But Richard ap- 
peared to be in no way annoyed by his company. 
He was looking much better, and wore a chamber 
gown of maroon satin, with deep laces showing at 
the wrists and bosom. When Katherine entered, 
he was amazed and charmed with her appearance. 
“Come near to me, my Katherine,” he said ; and as 
Mrs. Gordon drew from her shoulders the mantle, 
and from her head the bonnet, and revealed more 
perfectly her beautiful person and dress, his love 
and admiration were beyond words. 

With an air that plainly said : “This is the maiden 
for whom I fought and have suffered: is she not 
worthy of my devotion?” he introduced her to his 
friend. Captain Earle. But, even as they spoke, 


^THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE^ 153 

Earle joined Mrs. Gordon, at a call from her; and 
Katherine noticed that a door near which they stood 
was open, and that they went into the room to which 
it led, and that other voices then blended with theirs. 
But these things were as nothing. She was with her 
lover, alone for a moment with him; and Richard 
had never before seemed to her half so dear or half 
so fascinating. 

“My Katherine/' he said, “I have one torment- 
ing thought. Night and day it consumes me like a 
fever. I hear that Neil Semple is well. Yesterday 
Captain Earle met him : he was walking with your 
father. He will be visiting at your house very soon. 
He will see you; he will speak to you. You have 
such obliging manners, he may even clasp this hand, 
my hand. Heavens! I am but a man, and I find 
myself unable to endure the thought.” 

“In my heart, Richard, there is only room for* 
you. Neil Semple I fear and dislike.” 

“They will make you marry him, my darling.” 

“No : that they can never do.” 

“But I suffer in the fear. I suffer a thousand 
deaths. If you were only my wife, Katherine!” 

She blushed divinely. She was kneeling at his 
side ; and she put her arms around his neck, and laid 
her face against his. 

“Only your wife will I be. That is what I desire 
also.” 

Katherine? This minute, darling ? Make 
me sure of the felicity you have promised. You 
have my word of honor, that as Katherine Van 


154 the bow of orange RIBBON 

Heemskirk I will not again ask you to come here. 
But it is past my impatience to exist, and not see 
you. Katherine Hyde would have the right to 
come.’^ 

‘‘Oh, my love, my love!” 

“See how I tremble, Katherine. Life scarcely 
cares to inhabit a body so weak. If you refuse me, 
I will let it go. If you refuse me, I shall know that 
in your heart you expect to marry Neil Semple — the 
savage who has made me to suffer unspeakable 
agonies.” 

“Never will I marry him, Richard, never, never. 
My word is true. You only I will marry.” 

“Then now, now, Katherine. Here is the ring. 
Here is the special license from the governor; my 
aunt has made him to understand all. The clergy- 
man and the witnesses are waiting. Some good 
fortune has dressed you in bridal beauty. Now, 
Katherine? Now, Now!” 

She rose, and stood white and trembling by his 
side — speechless, also. To her father and her 
mother her thoughts fled in a kind of loving terror. 
But how could she resist the pleading of one whom 
she so tenderly loved, and to whom, in her maiden 
simplicity, she imagined herself to be so ^ deeply 
bounden? That very self-abnegation which forms 
so large a portion of a true affection urged her to 
compliance far more than love itself. And when 
Richard ceased to speak, and only besought her with 
the unanswerable pathos of his evident suffering for 
her sake, she felt the argument to be irresistible. 


SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIH^ 155 

‘‘Well, my Katherine, will you pity me so far?’^ 

“All you ask, my loved one, I will grant.” 

“Angel of goodness! Nowf” 

“At your wish, Richard.” 

He took her hand in a passion of joy and grati- 
tude, and touched a small bell. Immediately there 
was a sudden silence, and then a sudden movement, 
in the adjoining room. The next moment a clergy- 
man in canonical dress came toward them. By his 
side was Colonel Gordon, and Mrs. Gordon and 
Captain Earle followed. If Katherine had then 
been sensible of any misgiving or repentant with- 
drawal, the influences surrounding her were irre- 
sistible. But she had no distinct wish to resist them. 
Indeed, Colonel Gordon said afterward to his wife, 
“he had never seen a bride look at once so lovely 
and so happy.” The ceremony was full of so- 
lemnity, and of that deepest joy which dims the eyes 
with tears, even while it wreathes the lips with 
smiles. During it, Katherine knelt by Richard’s 
side; and every eye was fixed upon him, for he 
was almost fainting with the fatigue of his emo- 
tions; and it was with fast receding consciousness 
that he whispered rapturously at its close: “My 
wife, my wife!” 

Throughout the sleep of exhaustion which fol- 
lowed, she sat watching him. The company in the 
next room were quietly making merry “over Dick’s 
triumph,” but Katherine shook her head at all pro- 
posals to join them. The band of gold around her 
finger fascinated her. She was now really Rich- 


156 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

ard’s wife; and the first sensation of such a mighty 
change was, in her pure soul, one of infinite and 
reverent love. When Richard awoke, he was re- 
freshed and supremely happy. Then Katherine 
brought him food and wine, and ate her own morsel 
beside him. “Our first meal we must take to- 
gether,’’ she said; and Hyde was already sensible 
of some exquisite change, some new and rarer ten- 
derness and solicitude in all her ways toward him. 

The noon hour was long past, but she made no 
mention of it. The wedding guests also lingered, 
talking and laughing softly, and occasionally visit- 
ing the happy bride and bridegroom in their blissful 
companionship. In those few hours Richard made 
sure his dominion over his wife’s heart ; and he had 
so much to tell her, and so many directions to give 
her, that, ere they were aware, the afternoon was 
well spent. The clergyman and the soldiers de- 
parted, Mrs. Gordon was a little weary, and Hyde 
was fevered with the very excess of his joy. The 
moment for parting had come; and, when it has, 
wise are those who delay it not. Hyde fixed his 
eyes upon his wife until Mrs. Gordon had arranged 
again her bonnet and manteau; then, with a smile, 
he shut in their white portals the exquisite picture. 
He could let her go with a smile now, for he knew 
that Katherine’s absence was but a parted presence ; 
knew that her better part remained with him, that 


'Her heart was never away, 
But ever with his forever.’ 


^^THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE^’ 157 


The coach was waiting ; and, without delay, 
Katherine returned with Mrs. Gordon to her lodg- 
ings. Both were silent on the journey. When a 
great event has taken place, only the shallow and 
unfeeling chatter about it. Katherine's heart was 
full, even to solemnity; and Mrs. Gordon, whose 
affectation of fashionable levity was in a large 
measure pretense, had a kind and sensible nature, 
and she watched the quiet girl by her side with de- 
cided approval. ‘‘She may not be in the mode, but 
she is neither silly nor heartless,” she decided ; “and 
as for loving foolishly my poor, delightful Dick, 
why, any girl may be excused the folly.” 

Upon leaving the coach at Mrs. Gordon’s, Kath- 
erine went to an inner room to resume her own 
dress. The India silk lay across a chair; and she 
took off, and folded with her accustomed neatness, 
the elegant suit she had worn. As she did so, 
she became sensible of a singular liking for it; and, 
when Mrs. Gordon entered the room, she said to 
her: “Madam, very much I desire this suit: it is 
my wedding-gown. Will you save it for me? Some 
day I may wear it again, when Richard is well.” 

“Indeed, Katherine, that is a womanly thought; 
it does you a vast deal of credit; and, upon my 
word, you shall have the gown. I shall be put to 
straits without it, to out-dress Miss Betty Law- 
son; but never mind, I have a few decent gowns 
beside it.” 

“Richard, too, he will like it? You think so, 
madam ?” 


158 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

‘'My dear, don’t begin to quote Richard to me. 
I shall be impatient if you do. I assure you I have 
never considered him a prodigy.” Then, kissing 
her fondly, “Madam Katherine Hyde, my entire 
service to you. Pray be sure I shall give your hus- 
band my best concern. And now I think you can 
walk out of the door without much notice: there 
is a crowd on the street, and every one is busy about 
their own appearance or affairs.” 

“The time, madam? What is the hour?” 

“Indeed, I think it is much after four o’clock. 
Half an hour hence, you will have to bring out your 
excuses. I shall wish for a little devil at your elbow 
to help them out. Indeed, I am vastly troubled for 
you.” 

“Her excuses” Katherine had not suffered her- 
self to consider. She could not bear to shadow the 
present with the future. She had, indeed, a happy 
faculty of leaving her emergencies to take care of 
themselves; and perhaps wiser people than Kath- 
erine might, with advantage, trust less to their own 
planning and foresight, and more to that inscrutable 
power which we call chance, but which so often 
arrcxhges favorably the events apparently very un- 
favorable. 

For, at the best, foresight has but probabili- 
ties to work with; but chance, whose tools we 
know not, very often contradicts all our bad prophe- 
cies, and untangles untoward events far beyond our 
best prudence or wisdom. And Katherine was so 
happy. She was really Richard’s wife; and on that 


*^THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE^ 159 

solid vantage-ground she felt able to beat off trouble, 
and to defend her own and his rights. 

‘'So much better you look, Katherine,” said 
Madam Van Heemskirk. “Where have you been 
all the day? And did you see Mary Blankaart? 
And the money, is it found yet?” 

The family were at the supper-table; and Joris 
looked kindly at his truant daughter, and motioned 
to the vacant chair at his side. She slipped into it, 
touching her father’s cheek as she passed ; and then 
she answered: “At Mary Blankaart’s I was not at 
all, mother.” 

“Where, then?” 

“To Margaret Pitt’s I went first, and with Mrs. 
Gordon I have been all the day. She is lodging 
with Mrs. Lanier, on Pearl Street.” 

“Who sent you there, Katherine?” 

“No one, mother. When I passed the house, my 
name I heard, and Mrs. Gordon came out to me ; and 
how could I refuse her? Much had we to talk of.” 

Batavius saw the girl’s placid face, and heard 
her open confession, with the greatest amazement. 
He looked at Joanna, and was just going to express 
his opinion, when Joris rose, pushed his chair a Jjttl'e 
angrily aside, and said : “There is no blame to you, 
Katherine. Very kind was Mrs. Gordon to you, 
and she is a pleasant woman. For other’s faults 
she must not answer. That, also, is what Elder 
Semple says; for when past was her anger, with 
a heart full of sorrow she went to him and to 
Madam Semple.” 


i6o THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


‘‘The sorrow that is too late, of what use is it? 
A very pleasant woman! Perhaps she is, but then, 
also, a very vain, foolish woman. Every person of 
discretion says so; and if I had a daughter — 

“Well, then, Batavius, a daughter thou may have 
some day. To the man with a tender heart, God 
gives his daughters. Wanting in some good thing 
I had felt myself, if only sons I had been trusted 
with. A daughter is a little white lamb in the 
household to teach men to be gentle men.’’ 

“I was going to say this, if I had a daughter — ” 

“Well, then, when thou hast, more wisdom will 
be given thee. — Come with thy father, Katrijntje, 
and down the garden we will walk, and see if there 
are dahlias yet, and how grow the gold and the 
white chrysanthemums.” 

But all the time they were in the garden together, 
Joris never spoke of Mrs. Gordon, nor of Kath- 
erine’s visit to her. About the flowers, and the 
restless swallows, and the bluebirds, who still lin- 
gered, silent and anxious, he talked; and a little 
also of Joanna, and her new house, and of the great 
wedding feast that was the desire of Batavius. 

“Every one he has ever spoken to, he will ask,” 
said Katherine; “so hard he tries to have many 
friends, and to be well spoken of.” 

“That is his way, Katrijntje; every man has his 
way.” 

“And I like not the way of Batavius.” 

“In business he has a good name, honest and pru- 
dent. He will make thy sister a good husband.” 


'^THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE^^ i6i 


But, though Joris said nothing to his daughter 
concerning her visit to Mrs. Gordon, he talked long 
with Lysbet about it. “What will be the end, thou 
may see by the child’s face and air,” he said : “the 
shadow and the heaviness are gone. Like the old 
Katherine she is to-night.” 

“And this afternoon comes here Neil Semple. 
Scarcely he believed me that Katherine was out. 
Joris, what wilt thou do about the young man?” 

“His fair chance he is to have, Lysbet. That to 
the elder is promised.” 

“The case now is altered. Neil Semple I like not. 
Little he thought of our child’s good name. With 
his sword he wounded her most. No patience have 
I with the man. And his dark look thou should 
have seen when I said, ‘Katherine is not at home.’ 
Plainly his eyes said to me, ‘Thou art lying.’ ” 

“Well, then, what thought hast thou?” 

“This : one lover must push away the other. The 
young dominie that is now with the Rev. Lambertus 
de Ronde, he is handsome and a great hero. From 
Surinam has he come, a man who for the cross has 
braved savage men and savage beasts and deadly 
fever. No one but he is now to be talked of in the 
kirk; and I would ask him to the house. Often I 
have seen the gown and bands put the sword and 
epaulets behind them.” 

“Well, then, at the wedding of Batavius he will 
be asked; and if before there is a good time, I 
will say, ‘Come into my house, and eat and drink 
with us.’ ” 


i 62 the bow of orange RIBBON 

So the loving, anxious parents, in their ignorance, 
planned. Even then, accustomed in alt their Avays 
to move with caution, they saw no urgent need of 
interference with the regular and appointed events 
of life. A few weeks hence, when Joanna was mar- 
ried, if there was in the mean time no special oppor- 
tunity, the dominie could be offered as an antidote 
to the soldier; and, in the interim, Neil Semple was 
to honorably have such ‘‘chance’’ as his ungovern- 
able temper had left him. 

The next afternoon he called again on Kath- 
erine. His arm was still useless, his pallor and 
weakness so great as to win, even from Lysbet, 
that womanly pity which is often irrespective of 
desert. She brought him wine, she made him rest 
upon the sofa, and by her quiet air of S)mipathy 
bespoke for him a like indulgence from her daugh- 
ter. Katherine sat by her small wheel, unpl’aiting 
some flax; and Neil thought her the most beautiful 
creature he had ever seen. He kept angrily asking 
himself why he had not perceived this rare loveli- 
ness before; why he had not made sure his claim 
ere rivals had disputed it with him. He did not 
understand that it was love which had called this 
softer, more exquisite beauty into existence. The 
tender light in the eyes; the flush upon the cheek; 
the lips, conscious of sweet words and sweeter 
kisses ; the heart, beating to pure and loving thoughts 
— in short, the loveliness of the soul, transfiguring 
the meaner loveliness of flesh and blood, Neil had 
perceived and wondered at ; but he had not that kind 


^^THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE’^ 163 


of love experience which divines the cause from the 
result. 

On the contrary, had Hyde been watching Kath- 
erine, he would have been certain that she was mus- 
ing on her lover. He would have understood that 
bewitching languor, that dreaming silence, that ten- 
der air and light and color which were the physical 
atmosphere of a soul communing with its beloved; 
a soul touching things present only with its intelli- 
gence, but reaching out to the absent with intensity 
of every loving emotion. 

For some time the conversation was general. The 
meeting of the delegates, and the hospitalities of- 
fered them ; the offensive and tyrannical Stamp Act ; 
the new organization of patriots who called them- 
selves ^‘Sons of Liberty” ; and the loss of Miss Mary 
Blankaart's purse — furnished topics of mild dispute. 
But no one’s interest was in their words, and pres- 
ently Madam Van Heemskirk rose and left the room. 
Her husband had said, “Neil was to have some op- 
portunities and the words of Joris were a law of 
love to Lysbet. 

Neil was not slow to improve the favor. “Kath- 
erine, I wish to speak to you. I am weak and ill. 
Will you come here beside me?” 

She rose slowly, and stood beside him; but, when 
he tried to take her hands, she clasped them behind 
her back. 

“So?” he asked; and the blood surged over his 
white face in a crimson tide that made him for a 
moment or two speechless. “Why not?” 


i 64 the bow of orange RIBBON 

‘‘Blood-stained are your hands. I will not take 

them. ” 

The answer gave him a little comfort. It was, 

then, only a moral quakn. He had even no objec- 
tion to such a keen sense of purity in her ; and sooner 
or later she would forgive his action, or be made to 
see it with the eyes of the world in which she moved. 

“Katherine, I am very sorry I had to guard my 
honor with my sword; and it was your love I was 
fighting for.” 

“My honor you cared not for, and with the sword 
I could not guard it. Of me cruel and false words 
have been said by every one. On the streets I was 
ashamed to go. Even the dominie thought it right 
to come and give me admonition. Batavius never 
since has liked or trusted me. He says Joanna’s 
good name also I have injured. And my love — is 
it a thing to be fought for? You have guarded 
your honor, but what of mine?” 

“Your honor is my honor. They that speak ill 
of you, sweet Katherine, speak ill of me. Your life 
is my life. Oh, my precious one, my wife !” 

“Such words I will not listen to. Plainly now I 
tell you, your wife I will never be — never, never, 
never !” 

“I will love you, Katherine, beyond your dream 
of love. I will die rather than see you the wife of 
another man. For your bow of ribbon, only see 
what I have suffered.” 

“And, also, what have you made another to 
suffer?” 


^^THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE’’ 165 


‘‘Oh, I wish that I had slain him 

“Not your fault is it that you did not murder 
him/’ 

“An affair of honor is not murder, Katherine.” 

“Honor! Name not the word. From a dozen 
wounds your enemy was bleeding; to go on fight- 
ing a dying man was murder, not honor. Brave 
some call you : in my heart I say, ‘Neil Semple was 
a savage and a coward.’ ” 

“Katherine, T will not be angry with you.” 

“I wish that you should be angry with me.” 

“Because some day you will be very sorry for 
these foolish words, my dear love.” 

“Your dear love I am not.” 

“My dear love, give me a drink of wine, I am 
faint.” 

His whispered words and deathlike countenance 
moved her to human pity. She rose for the wine, 
and, as she did so, called her mother; but Neil had 
at least the satisfaction of feeling that she had min- 
istered to his weakness, and held the wine to his 
lips. From this time, he visited her constantly, un- 
mindful of her frowns, deaf to all her unkind words, 
patient under the most pointed slights and neglect. 
And as most men rate an object according to the 
difficulty experienced in attaining it, Katherine be- 
came every day more precious and desirable in Neil’s 
eyes. 

In the mean time, without being watched, Kath- 
erine felt herself to be under a certain amount of 
restraint. If she proposed a walk into the city, Jo- 


i66 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


anna or madam was sure to have the same desire. 
She was not forbidden to visit Mrs. Gordon, but 
events were so arranged as to make the visit almost 
impossible; and only once, during the month after 
her marriage, had she an interview with her hus- 
band. For even Hyde’s impatience had recognized 
the absolute necessity of circumspection. The land- 
lord’s suspicions had been awakened, and not very 
certainly allayed. “There must be no scandal about 
my house, captain,” he said. “I merit something 
better from you;” and, after this injunction, it was 
very likely that Mrs. Gordon’s companions would 
be closely scrutinized. True, the “King’s Arms” 
was the great rendezvous of the military and gov- 
ernment officials, and the landlord himself subservi- 
ently loyal; but, also, Joris Van Heemskirk was 
not a man with whom any good citizen would like 
to quarrel. Personally he was much beloved, and 
socially he stood as representative of a class who 
held in their hands commercial and political power 
no one cared to oppose or offend. 

The marriage license had been obtained from the 
governor, but extraordinary influence had been used 
to procure it. Katherine was under age, and yet 
subject to her father’s authority. In spite of book 
and priest and ring, he could retain his child for at 
least three years ; and three years, Hyde — in talking 
with his aunt — called “an eternity of doubt and de- 
spair.” These facts, Hyde, in his letters, had fully 
explained to Katherine ; and she understood clearly 
how important the preservation of her secret was, 


SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TlE^^ 167 

and how much toward allaying suspicion depended 
upon her own behavior. Fortunately Joanna’s wed- 
ding-day was drawing near, and it absorbed what 
attention the general public had for the Van Heems- 
kirk family. For it was a certain thing, developing 
into feasting and dancing; and it quite put out of 
consideration suspicions which resulted in nothing, 
when people examined them in the clear atmosphere 
of Katherine’s home. 

At the feast of St. Nicholas the marriage was 
to take place. Early in November the preparations 
for it began. No such great event could happen 
without an extraordinary house-cleaning; and from 
garret to cellar the housemaid’s pail and brush were 
in demand. Spotless was every inch of paint, shin- 
ing every bit of polished wood and glass; not a 
thimble-full of dust in the whole house. Toward 
the end of the month, Anna and Cornelia arrived, 
with their troops of rosy boys and girls, and their 
slow, substantial husbands. Batavius felt himself 
to be a very great man. The weight of his affairs 
made him solemn and preoccupied. He was not 
one of those light, foolish ones, who can become 
a husband and a householder without being sensi- 
ble of the responsibilities they assume. 

In the midst of all this household excitement, 
Katherine found some opportunities of seeing Mrs. 
Gordon; and in the joy of receiving letters from, 
and sending letters to, her husband, she recovered 
a gaiety of disposition which effectually repressed 
all urgent suspicions. Besides, as the eventful day 


i68 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


drew near, there was so much to attend to. Jo- 
anna’s personal goods, her dresses and household 
linen, her china and wedding gifts had to be 
packed; the house was decorated; and there was a 
most amazing quantity of delicacies to be prepared 
for the table. 

In the middle of the afternoon of the day before 
the marriage, there was the loud rat-tat-tat of the 
brass knocker, announcing a visitor. But visitors 
had been constant since the arrival of Cornelia and 
Anna, and Katherine did not much trouble herself 
as to whom it might be. She was standing upon 
a ladder, pinning among the evergreens and scarlet 
berries rosettes and bows of ribbon of the splen- 
did national color, and singing with a delightsome 
cheeriness : 

‘‘But the maid of Holland 
For her own true love, 

Ties the splendid orange. 

Orange still above! 

O oranje hoven! 

Orange still above!” 

‘^Orange still above ! Oh, my dear, don’t trouble 
yourself to come down ! I can pass the time toler- 
ably well, watching you.” 

It was Mrs. Gordon, and she nodded and laughed 
in a triumphant way that very quickly brought Kath- 
erine to her side. “My dear, I kiss you. You are 
the top beauty of my whole acquaintance.” Then, 
in a whisper, ''Richard sends his devotion. And put 
your hand in my muff: there is a letter. And pray 
give me joy: I have just secured an invitation. I 


*^THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE^^ 169 


asked the councilor and madam pointblank for it. 
Faith, I think I am a little of a favorite with them ! 
Every one is talking of the bridegroom, and the 
bridegroom is talking to every one. Surely, my 
dear, he imagines himself to be the only man that 
will ever again commit matrimony. Oranje boven, 
everywhere!” Then, with a little exultant laugh, 
‘‘Above the Tartan, at any rate. How is the young 
Bruce? My dear, if you don’t make him suffer, I 
shall never forgive you. Alternate doses of hope 
and despair, that would be my prescription.” 

Katherine shook her head. 

‘‘Take notice, in particular, that I don’t under- 
stand nods and shakes and sighs and signs. What 
is your opinion, frankly?” 

“On my wedding-day, as I left Richard, this he 
said to me : ‘My honor, Katherine, is now in your 
keeping.’ By the lifting of one eyelash, I will not 
stain it.” 

“My dear, you are perfectly charming. You 
always convince me that I am a better woman than 
I imagine myself. I shall go straight to Dick, and 
tell him how exactly proper you are. Really, you 
have more perfections than any one woman has a 
right to.” 

“To-morrow, if I have a letter ready, you will 
take it?” 

“I will run the risk, child. But really, if you 
could see the way mine host of the ‘King’s Arms’ 
looks at me, you would be sensible of my courage. 
I am persuaded he thinks T carry you under my 


iyo THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

new wadded cloak. Now, adieu. Return to your 
evergreens and ribbons. 

“ ‘For your own true love, 

Tie the splendid orange, 

Orange still above!’” 

And so, lightly humming Katherine’s favorite song, 
she left the busy house. 

Before daylight the next morning, Batavius had 
every one at his post. The ceremony was to be per- 
formed in the Middle Kirk, and he took care that 
Joanna kept neither Dominie de Ronde nor himself 
waiting. He was exceedingly gratified to find the 
building crowded when the wedding party arrived. 
Joanna’s dress had cost a guinea a yard, his own 
broadcloth and satin were of the finest quality, and 
he felt that the good citizens who respected him 
ought to have an opportunity to see how deserving 
he was of their esteem. Joanna, also, was a beau- 
tiful bride; and the company was entirely composed 
of men of honor and substance, and women of irre- 
proachable character, dressed with that solid mag- 
nificence gratifying to a man who, like Batavius, 
dearly loved respectability. 

Katherine looked for Mrs. Gordon in vain: she 
was not in the kirk, and she did not arrive until 
the festival dinner was nearly over. Batavius was 
then considerably under the excitement of his fine 
position and fine fare. He sat by the side of his 
bride, at the right hand of Joris; and Katherine 
assisted her mother at the other end of the table. 


^THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE^ 171 

Peter Block, the first mate of the ‘‘Great Christo- 
pher,” was just beginning to sing a song — a fool- 
ish, sentimental ditty for so big and bluff a fellow — 
in which some girl was thus entreated : 

“Come, fly with me, my own fair love; 

My bark is waiting in the bay, 

And soon its snowy wings will speed 
To happy lands so far away. 

“And there, for us, the rose of love 
Shall sweetly bloom, and never die. 

Oh, fly with me! We’ll happy be 
Beneath fair Java’s smiling sky.” 

“Peter, such nonsense as you sing,” said Bata- 
vius, with all the authority of a skipper to his mate. 
“How can a woman fly when she has no wings? 
And to say any bark has wings is not the truth. 
And what kind of rose is the rose of love? Twelve 
kinds of roses I have chosen for my new garden, 
but that kind I never heard of; and I will not be- 
lieve in any rose that never dies. And you also 
have been to Java; and well you know of the fever 
and the blacks, and the sky that is not smiling, but 
hot as the place which is not heaven. No respect- 
able person would want to be a married man in 
Java. I never did.” 

“Sing your own songs, skipper. By yourself you 
measure every man. If to the kingdom of heaven 
you did not want to go, astonished and angry you 
would be that any one did not like the place which 
is not heaven.” 

^‘Come, friends and neighbors,” said Joris cheer- 


172 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

ily, ‘'I will sing you a song; and every one knows 
the tune to it, and every one has heard their vaders 
and their moeders sing it — sometimes, perhaps, on 
the great dikes of Vaderland, and sometimes in 
their sweet homes that the great Hendrick Hudson 
found out for them. Now, then, all, a song for 
Moeder Holland: 

“ ‘We have taken our land from the sea, 

Its fields are all yellow with grain, 

Its meadows are green on the lea, — 

And now shall we give it to Spain? 

No, no, no, no! 

“ ‘We have planted the faith that is pure, 

That faith to the end we’ll maintain; 

For the word and the truth must endure. 

Shall we bow to the Pope and to Spain? 

No, no, no, no 1 

“ ‘Our ships are on every sea. 

Our honor has never a stain. 

Our law and our commerce are free: 

Are we slaves for the tyrant of Spain? 

No, no, no, no! 

" ‘Then, sons of Batavia, the spade, — 

The spade and the pike and the main, 

And the heart and the hand and the blade: 

Is there mercy for merciless Spain? 

No, no, no, no !’ ” 

By this time the enthusiasm was wonderful. The 
short, quick denials came hotter and louder at every 
verse; and it was easy to understand how these 
large, slow men, once kindled to white heat, were 
both irresistible and unconquerable. Every eye was 
turned to Joris, who stood in his massive, manly 
beauty a very conspicuous figure. His face was full 


^^THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE^^ 173 

of feeling and purpose, his large blue eyes limpid 
and shining; and, as the tumult of applause gradu- 
ally ceased, he said : 

‘‘My friends and neighbors, no poet am I; but 
always wrongs burn in the heart until plain prose 
can not utter them. Listen to me. If we wrung 
the Great Charter and the right of self-taxation 
from Mary in a. d. 1477; if in A. d. 1572 we taught 
Alva, by force of arms, how dear to us was our 
maxim, ‘No taxation without representation’ : 

“ ‘Shall we give up our long-cherished right ? 

Make the blood of our fathers in vain? 

Do we fear any tyrant to fight? 

Shall we hold out our hands for the chain? 

No, no, no, no!’ ” 

Even the women had caught fire at this allusion 
to the injustice of the Stamp Act and Quartering 
Acts, then hanging over the liberties of the Prov- 
ince; and Mrs. Gordon looked curiously and not 
unkindly at the latent rebels. “England will have 
foemen worthy of her steel, if she turns these good 
friends into enemies,” she reflected ; and then, fol- 
lowing some irresistible impulse, she rose with the 
company, at the request of Joris, to sing unitedly 
the patriotic invocation : 

“O Vaderland, can we forget thee, — 

Thy courage, thy glory, thy strife? 

O Moeder Kirk, can we forget thee? 

No, never! no, never! through life. 

No, no, no, no!” 

The emotion was too intense to be prolonged; 
and Joris instantly pushed back his chair, and said : 


174 the bow of orange RIBBON 

‘‘Now, then, friends, for the dance. Myself I think 
not too old to take out the bride.” 

Neil Semple, who had looked like a man in a 
dream during the singing, went eagerly to Kath- 
erine as soon as Joris spoke of dancing. “He felt 
strong enough,” he said, “to tread a measure in the 
bride dance, and he hoped she would so far honor 
him.” 

“No, I will not, Neil. I will not take your hands. 
Often have I told you that.” 

“Just for to-night, forgive me, Katherine.” 

“I am sorry that all must end so : I can not dance 
any more with you ;” and then she affected to hear 
her mother calling, and left him standing among 
the jocund crowd, hopeless and distraught with 
grief. He was not able to recover himself, and the 
noise and laughter distracted and made him angry. 
He had expected so much from this occasion, from 
its influence and associations; and it had been alto- 
gether a disappointment. Mrs. Gordon’s presence 
troubled him, and he was not free from jealousy 
regarding the young dominie. He had received a 
call from a church in Haarlem; and the Consis- 
tory had requested him to become a member of the 
Csetus, and accept it. Joris had interested himself 
much in his favor; Katherine listened with evident 
pleasure to his conversation. The fire of jealousy 
burns with very little fuel ; and Neil went away 
from Joanna’s wedding-feast hating very cordially 
the young and handsome Dominie Lambertus Van 
Linden. 


*^THE SILVER LINK, THE SILKEN TIE*^ 175 


The elder noticed everything, and he was angry 
at this new turn in affairs. He felt as if Joris 
had purposely brought the dominie into his house 
to further embarrass Neil; and he said to his wife 
after their return home: our son Neil has 

lost the game for Katherine Van Heemskirk. I 
dinna care a bodle for it now. A man that gets 
the woman he wants vera seldom gets any other 
gude thing.” 

‘^Elder!” 

‘‘Ah, weel, there’s excepts! I hae mind o’ them. 
But Neil won’t be long daunted. I looked in on 
him as I cam’ upstairs. He was sitting wi’ a law 
treatise, trying to read his trouble awa’. He’s a 
brave soul. He’ll hae honors and charges in plenty ; 
and there’s vera few women that are worth a gude 
office — if you hae to choose atwj^n them.” 

“You go back on your ain words, elder. Tak’ a 
sleep to yousel’. Your pillow may gie you wisdom.” 

And, while this conversation was taking place, 
they heard the pleasant voices of Van Heemskirk’s 
departing guests, as, with snatches of song and 
merry laughter, they convoyed Batavius and his 
bride to their own home. And, when they got 
there, Batavius lifted up his lantern and showed 
them the motto he had chosen for its lintel ; and it 
passed from lip to lip, till it was lifted altogether, 
and the young couple crossed their threshold to his 
ringing good-will: 


‘Poverty — always a day’s sail behind us!” 


CHAPTER IX 


Katherine’s decision 

“The hours of love fill full the echoing space 
With sweet confederate music favorable.” 

“Now many memories make solicitous 

The delicate love lines of her mouth, till lit 
With quivering fire, the words take wing from it; 

As here between our kisses we sit thus 
Speaking of things remembered, and so sit 
Speechless while things forgotten call to us.” 

J OANNA’S wedding occurred at the beginning 
of the winter and the winter festivities. But, 
amid all the dining and dancing and skating, there 
was a political anxiety and excitement that leavened 
strongly every social and domestic event. The first 
Colonial Congress had passed the three resolutions 
which proved to be the key-note of resistance and of 
liberty. Joris had emphatically indorsed its action. 
The odious Stamp Act was to be met by the refusal 
of American merchants either to import English 
goods or to sell them upon commission until 
it was repealed. Homespun became fashionable. 
During the first three months of the year, it was 
a kind of disgrace to wear silk or satin or broad- 
cloth; and a great fair was opened for the sale of 
articles of home manufacture. The Government 
kept its hand upon the sword. The people were di- 

176 


KATHERINES DECISION 


177 

vided into two parties, bitterly antagonistic to each 
other. The ‘'Sons of Liberty” were keeping guard 
over the pole which symbolized their determination ; 
the British soldiery were swaggering and boasting 
and openly insulting patriots on the streets ; and the 
“New York Gazette,” in flaming articles, was stimu- 
lating to the utmost the spirit of resistance to 
tyranny. 

And these great public interests had in every fam- 
ily their special modifications. Joris was among the 
two hundred New York merchants who put their 
names to the resolutions of the October Congress; 
Bram was a conspicuous member of the “Sons of 
Liberty” ; but Batavius, though conscientiously with 
the people’s party, was very sensible of the annoy- 
ance and expense it put him to. Only a part of his 
house was finished, but the building of the rest was 
in progress; and many things were needed for its 
elegant completion, which were only to be bought 
from Tory importers, and which had been therefore 
nearly doubled in value. When liberty interfered 
with the private interests of Batavius, he had his 
doubts as to whether it was liberty. Often Bram’s 
overt disloyalty irritated him beyond endurance. 
For, since he had joined the ranks of married men 
and householders, Batavius felt that unmarried men 
ought to wait for the opinions and leadership of 
those who had responsibilities. 

Joanna talked precisely as Batavius talked. All 
of his enunciations met with her “Amen.” There 
are women who are incapable of but one affection 


178 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

— that one which affects them in especial — and 
Joanna was of this order. “My husband’’ was per- 
petually on her tongue. She looked upon her posi- 
tion as a wife and housekeeper as unique. Other 
women might have, during the past six thousand 
years, held these positions in an indifferent kind of 
way ; but only she had ever comprehended and prop- 
erly fulfilled the duties they involved. Madam Van 
Heemskirk smiled a little when Joanna gave her 
advices about her house and her duties, when she 
disapproved of her father’s political attitude, when 
she looked injured by Bram’s imprudence. 

“Not only is wisdom born with Joanna and Bata- 
vius, it will also die with them : so they think,” said 
Katherine indignantly, after one of Joanna’s peri- 
odical visitations. 

A tear twinkled in madam’s eyes; but she an- 
swered : 

“I shall not distress myself over much. Always 
I have said : ‘Jo^inna has a little soul. Only what is 
for her now good can she love.’ ” 

“It is Batavius ; and a woman must love her hus- 
band, mother.” 

“That is the truth : first and best of all, she must 
love him, Katherine; but not as the dog loves and 
fawns on his master, or the squaw bends down to 
her brave. A good woman gives not up her own 
principles and thoughts and ways. A good woman 
will remember the love of her father and mother and 
brother and sister, her old home, her old friends; 
and contempt she will not feel and show for the 


KATHERINES DECISION 179 

things of the past, which often, for her, were far 
better than she was worthy oi” 

‘‘There is one I love, mother, love with all my 
soul. For him I would die. But for thee also I 
would die. Love thee, mother? I love thee and my 
father better because I love him. My mother, fret 
thee not, nor think that ever Joanna can really for- 
get thee. If a daughter could forget her good 
father and her good mother, then with the women 
who sit weeping in the outer darkness God would 
justly give her her portion. Such a daughter could 
not be.’' 

Lysbet sadly shook her head. “When I was a 
little girl, Katherine, I read in a book about the old 
Romans, how a wicked daughter over the bleeding 
corpse of her father drove her chariot. She wanted 
his crown for her own husband ; and over the warm, 
quivering body of her father she drove. When I 
read that story, Katherine, my eyes I covered with 
my hands. I thought such a wicked woman in the 
world could not be. Alas, mijn kind! often since 
then I have seen daughters over the bleeding hearts 
of their mothers and fathers drive; and frown and 
scold and be much injured and offended if once, in 
their pain and sorrow, they cry out.” 

“But tliis of me remember, mother : if I am not 
near thee, I shall be loving thee, thinking of thee; 
telling my husband, and perhaps my little children, 
about thee — how good thou art, how pretty, how 
wise. I will order my house as thou hast taught 
me, and my own dear ones will love me better be- 


i8o THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


cause I love thee. If to my own mother I be not 
true, can my husband be sure I will be true to him, 
if comes the temptation strong enough? Sorry 
would I be if my heart only one love could hold, 
and ever the last love the strong love.” 

Still, in spite of this home trouble, and in spite 
of the national anxiety, the winter months went 
with a delightsome peace and regularity in the Van 
Heemskirk household. Neil Semple ceased to visit 
Katherine after Joanna’s wedding. There was no 
quarrel, and no interruption to the kindness that had 
so long existed between the families : frequently 
they walked from kirk together — Madam Semple 
and Madam Van Heemskirk, Joris and the elder, 
Katherine and Neil. But Neil never again offered 
her his hand ; and such conversation as they had was 
constrained, and of the most conventional character. 

Very frequently, also. Dominie Van Linden spent 
the evening with them. Joris delighted in his de- 
scriptions of Java and Surinam; and Lysbet and 
Katherine knit their stockings, and listened to the 
conversation. It was evident that the young min- 
ister was deeply in love, and equally evident that 
Katherine’s parents favored his suit. But the lover 
felt that, whenever he attempted to approach her 
as a lover, Katherine surrounded herself with an 
atmosphere that froze the words of admiration or 
entreaty upon his lips. 

Joris, however, spoke for him. ‘‘He has told me 
how truly he loves thee. Like an honest man he 
loves thee, and he will make thee a wife honored 


KATHERINES DECISION i8i 

of many. No better husband can thou have, Kathe- 
rine.'’ So spoke her father to her one evening in 
the early spring, as they stood together over the 
budding sno'wdrops and crocus. 

‘‘There is no love in my heart for him, father." 

“Neil pleases thee not, nor the dominie. Whom 
would thou have, then? Surely not that English- 
man now? The whole race I hate — swaggering, 
boastful tyrants, all of them. I will not give thee 
to any Englishman." 

“If I marry not him, then will I stay with thee 
always." 

“Nonsense that is. Thou must marry, like other 
women. But not him : I would never forgive thee ; 
I would never see thy face again." 

“Very hard art thou to me. I love Richard : can 
I love this one and then that one? If 1 were so 
light-of-love, contempt I should have from all, even 
from thee." 

“Now, I have something to say. I have heard 
that some one — very like to thee — some one, went 
twice or three times with Mrs. Gordon to see the 
man when he lay ill at the ‘King's Arms.' To such 
talk, my anger and my scorn soon put an end ; and 
I will not ask of thee whether it be true, or whether 
it be false. For a young girl I can feel." 

“Oh, father, if for me thou could feel !" 

“See, now, if I thought this man would be to 
thee a good husband, I would say : ‘God made him, 
and God does not make all his men Dutchmen' ; and 
I would forgive him his light, loose life, and his 


i 82 the bow of orange RIBBON 


wicked wasting of gold and substance, and give thee 
to him, with thy fortune and with my blessing. But 
I think he will be to thee a careless husband. He 
will get tired of thy beauty; thy goodness he will 
not value; thy money he will soon spend. Three 
sweethearts had he in New York before thee. Their 
very names, I dare say, he hath forgotten ere 
this.” 

‘Tf Richard could make you sure, father, that he 
would be a good husband, would you then be con- 
tent that we should be married?” 

‘^That he can not do. Can the night make me 
sure it is the day? Once very much I respected 
Batavius. I said : ‘He is a strict man of business ; 
honorable, careful, and always apt to make a good 
bargain. He does not drink nor swear, and he is 
a firm member of the true Church. He will make 
my Joanna a good husband.’ That was what I 
thought. Now I see that he is a very small, envious, 
greedy man; and like himself he quickly made thy 
sister. This is what I fear : if thou marry that sol- 
dier, either thou must grow like he is, or else he will 
hate thee, and make thee miserable.” 

“Just eighteen I am. Let us not talk of hus- 
bands. Why are you so hurried, father, to give me 
to this strange dominie? Little is known of him 
but what he says. It is easy for him to speak well 
of Lambertus Van Linden.” 

“The Committee from the Great Consistory have 
examined his testimonials. They are very good. 
And I am not in a hurry to give thee away. What 


KATHERINE* S DECISION 183 

I fear is, that thou wilt be a foolish woman, and 
give thyself away/’ 

Katherine stood with dropped head, looking ap- 
parently at the brown earth, and the green box 
borders, and the shoots of white and purple and 
gold. But what she really saw was the pale, hand- 
some face of her sick husband, its pathetic entreaty 
for her love, its joyful flush, when with bridal kisses 
he whispered: *^Wife, wife, wife!” 

Joris watched her curiously. The expression on 
her face he could not understand. ‘‘So happy she 
looks!” he thought, “and for what reason?” Kath- 
erine was the first to speak. 

“Who has told you anything about Captain 
Hyde, father?” 

“Many have spoken.” 

“Does he get back his good health again?” 

“I hear that. When the warm days come, to 
England he is going. So says Jacob Cohen. What 
has Mrs. Gordon told thee? for to see her I know 
thou goest.” 

“Twice only have I been.* I heard not of Eng- 
land.” 

“But that is certain. He will go, and what then? 
Thee he will quite forget, and never more will thou 
see or hear tell of him.” 

“That I believe not. In the cold winter one 
would have said of these flowers: ‘They come no 
more.’ But the winter goes away, and then here 
they are. Richard has been in the dead valley, der 
schaduwe des doods. Sometimes I thought, he will 


i 84 the bow of orange RIBBON 

come back to me no more. But now I am sure I 
shall see him again.’’ 

Joris turned sadly away. That night he did not 
speak to her more. But he had the persistence 
which is usually associated with slow natures. He 
could not despair. He felt that he must go steadily 
on trying to move Katherine to what He really be- 
lieved was her highest interest. And he permitted 
nothing to discourage him for very long. Dominie 
Van Linden was also a prudent man. He had no 
intention in his wooing to make haste and lose speed. 
As to Katherine’s love troubles, he had not been left 
in ignorance of them. A great many people had 
given him such information as would enable him to 
keep his own heart from the wiles of the siren. He 
had also a wide knowledge of books and life, and in 
the light of this knowledge he thought he could 
understand her. But the conclusion that he delib- 
erately came to was, that Katherine had cared for 
neither Hyde or Semple, and that the unpleasant 
termination of their courtship had made her shy of 
all lover-like attentions. He believed that if he ad- 
vanced cautiously to her he might have the felicity 
of surprising and capturing her virgin affection. 
And just about so far does any amount of wisdom 
and experience help a man in a love perplexity; 
because every mortal woman is a different woman, 
and no two can be wooed and won in precisely the 
same way. 

Amid all these different elements, political, social, 
and domestic. Nature kept her own even, unvarying 


KATHERINE’S DECISION 185 

course. The gardens grew every day fairer, the air 
more soft and balmy, the sunshine warmer and more 
cherishing. Katherine was not unhappy. As Hyde 
grew stronger, he spent his hours in writing long 
letters to his wife. He told her every trivial event, 
he commented on all she told him. And her letters 
revealed to him a soul so pure, so true, so loving, 
that he vowed ^‘he fell in love with her afresh every 
day of his life.’’ Katherine’s communications 
reached her husband readily by the ordinary post; 
Hyde’s had to be sent through Mrs. Gordon. But 
it was evident from the first that Katherine could 
not call there for them. Colonel Gordon would 
soon have objected to being made an obvious par- 
ticipant in his nephew’s clandestine correspondence ; 
and Joris would have decidedly interfered with 
visits sure to cause unpleasant remarks about his 
daughter. The medium was found in the mantua- 
maker. Miss Pitt. Mrs. Gordon was her most profit- 
able customer, and Katherine went there for needles 
and threads and such small wares as are constantly 
needed in a household. And whenever she did so, 
Miss Pitt was sure to remark, in an after-thought 
kind of way: ‘‘Oh, I had nearly forgotten, miss! 
Here is a small parcel that Mrs. Gordon desired 
me to present to you.” 

One exquisite morning in May, Katherine stood 
at an open window looking over the garden and the 
river, and the green hills and meadows across the 
stream. Her heart was full of hope. Richard’s re- 
covery was so far advanced that he had taken sev- 


i86 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


eral rides in the middle of the day. Always he had 
passed the Van Heemskirks’ house, and always 
Katherine had been waiting to rain down upon his 
lifted face the influence of her most bewitching 
beauty and her tenderest smiles. She was thinking 
of the last of these events — of Richard’s rapid ex- 
hibition of a long, folded paper, and the singular 
and emphatic wave which he gave it toward the 
river. His whole air and attitude had expressed 
delight and hope : could he really mean that she was 
to meet him again at their old trysting-place ? 

As thus she happily mused, some one called her 
mother from the front hall. On fine mornings it 
was customary to leave the door standing open; 
and the visitor advanced to the foot of the stairs, 
and called once more : “Lysbet Van Heemskirk! Is 
there naebody in to bid me welcome ?” Then Kathe- 
rine knew it was Madam Semple; and she ran to 
her mother’s room, and begged her to go down and 
receive the caller. For in these days Katherine 
dreaded Madam Semple a little. Very naturally, 
the mother blamed her for Neil’s suffering and loss 
of time and prestige ; and she found it hard to for- 
give also her positive rejection of his suit. For her 
sake, she herself had been made to suffer mortifica- 
tion and disappointment. She had lost her friends 
in a way which deprived her of all the fruits of her 
kindness. The Gordons thought Neil had trans- 
gressed all the laws of hospitality. The Semples 
had a similar charge to make. And it provoked 
Madam Semple that Mrs. Gordon continued her 


KATHERINE’S DECISION 187 

friendship with Katherine. Every one else blamed 
Katherine altogether in the matter: Mrs. Gordon 
had defied the use and wont of society on such occa- 
sions, and thrown the whole blame on Neil. Some- 
how, in her secret heart, she even blamed Lysbet a 
little. “Ever since I told her there was an earldom 
in the family, she’s been daft, to push her daughter 
into it,” was her frequent remark to the elder; and 
he also reflected that the proposed alliance of Neil 
and Katherine had been received with coolness by 
Joris and Lysbet. “It was the soldier or the dom- 
inie, either o’ them before our Neil”; and, though 
there was no apparent diminution of friendship, 
Semple and his wife frequently had a little private 
grumble at their own fireside. 

And toward Neil, Joris had also a secret feeling 
of resentment. He had taken no pains to woo 
Katherine until some one else wanted her. It was 
universally conceded that he had been the first to 
draw his sword, and thus indulge his own temper 
at the expense of their child’s good name and hap- 
piness. Taking these faults as rudimentary ones, 
Lysbet could enlarge on them indefinitely; and Joris 
had undoubtedly been influenced by his wife’s opin- 
ions. So, below the smiles and kind words of a long 
friendship, there was bitterness. If there had not 
been, Janet Semple would hardly have paid that 
morning visit; for before Lysbet was half-way down 
the stairs, Katherine heard her call out : 

“Here’s a bonnie come of. But it is what a’ 
folks expected. The ‘Dauntless’ sailed the morn, 


i88 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


and Captain Earle wi’ a contingent for the West 
Indies station. And who wi’ him, guess you, but 
Captain Hyde, and no less? They say he has a fur- 
lough in his pocket for a twelvemonth : more like it’s 
a clean, total dismissal. The gude ken it ought to be.” 

So much Katherine heard, then her mother shut 
to the door of the sitting-room. A great fear made 
her turn faint and sick. Were her father’s words 
true? Was this the meaning of the mysterious wave 
of the folded paper toward the ocean? The sus- 
picion once entertained, she remembered several 
little things which strengthened it. Her heart failed 
her : she uttered a low cry of pain, and tottered to 
a chair, like one wounded. 

It was then ten o’clock. She thought the noon 
hour would never come. Eagerly she watched for 
Bram and her father, for any certainty would be 
better than such cruel fear and suspense. And, if 
Richard had really gone, the fact would be known 
to them. Bram came first. For once she felt im- 
patient of his political enthusiasm. How could she 
care about liberty poles and impressed fishermen, 
with such a real terror at her heart ? But Bram said 
nothing, only, as he went out, she caught him look- 
ing at her with such pitiful eyes. ‘'What did he 
mean?” She turned coward then, and could not 
voice the question. Joris was tenderly explicit. He 
said to her at once: “The ‘Dauntless’ sailed this 
morning. Oh, my little one, sorry I am for thee !” 

“Is he gone?” Very low and slow were the 
words; and Joris only answered: “Yes.” 


KATHERINES DECISION 189 

Without any further question or remark, she went 
away. They were amazed at her calmness. And 
for some minutes after she had locked the door of 
her room, she stood still in the middle of the floor, 
more like one that has forgotten something, and is 
trying to remember, than a woman who has received 
a blow upon her heart. No tears came to her eyes. 
She did not think of weeping, or reproaching, or 
lamenting. The only questions she asked herself 
were : ‘‘How am I to get life over? Will such suf- 
fering kill me very soon 

Joris and Lysbet talked it over together. “Cohen 
told me,” said Joris, “that Captain Hyde called to 
bid him good-by. He said : ‘He is a very honorable 
young man, a very grateful young man, and I re- 
joice that I was helpful in saving his life.’ Then I 
asked him in what ship he was to sail, and he said 
the ‘Dauntless.’ She left her moorings this morn- 
ing between nine and ten. She carries troops to 
Kingston, Captain Earle in command ; and I heard 
that Captain Hyde has a year’s furlough.” 

Lysbet drew her lips tight, and said nothing. The 
last shadow of her own dream had departed also, 
but it was of her child she thought. At that hour 
she hated Hyde; and, after Joris had gone, she said 
in low, angry tones, over and over, as she folded 
the freshly ironed linen : “I wish that Neil had killed 
iiim!” About two o’clock she went to Katherine. 
The girl opened her door at once to her. There 
was nothing to be said, no hope to offer. Joris had 
seen Hyde embark ; he had heard Mrs. Gordon and 


T90 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

the colonel bid him farewell. Several of his brother 
officers, also, and the privates of his own troop, had 
been on the dock to see him sail. His departure 
was beyond dispute. And even while she looked at 
the woful young face before her, the mother an- 
ticipated the smaller, festering sorrows that would 
spring from this great one — the shame and morti- 
fication ; the mockery of those who had envied Kath- 
erine; the inquiries, condolences, and advices of 
friends ; the complacent self-congratulation of Bata- 
vius, who would be certain to remind them of every 
provoking admonition he had given on the subject. 
x\nd who does not know that these little trials of life 
are its hardest trials? The mother did not attempt 
to say one word of comfort, or hope, or excuse. 
She only took the child in her arms, and wept for 
her. At this hour she would not wound her by even 
an angry word concerning him. 

‘T loved him so much, moeder” 

‘Thou could not help it. Handsome, and gal- 
lant, and gay he was. I never shall forget seeing 
thee dance with him.” 

“And he did love me. A woman knows when she 
is loved.” 

“Yes, I am sure he loved thee.” 

“He has gone? Really gone?” 

“No doubt is there of it. Stay in thy room, and 
have thy grief out with thyself.” 

“No; I will come to my work. Every day will 
now be the same. I shall look no more for any joy; 
but my duty I will do.” 


KATHERINE'S DECISION 191 

They went downstairs together. The clean linen, 
the stockings that required mending, lay upon the 
table. Katherine sat down to the task. Resolutely, 
but almost unconsciously, she put her needle through 
and through. Her suffering was pitiful; this little 
one, who a few months ago would have wept for 
a cut finger, now silently battling with the bitterest 
agony that can come to a loving woman — the sense 
of cruel, unexpected, unmerited desertion. At first 
Lysbet tried to talk to her; but she soon saw that 
the effort to answer was beyond Katherine’s power, 
and conversation was abandoned. So for an hour, 
an hour of speechless sorrow, they sat. The tick of 
the clock, the purr of the cat, the snap of a breaking 
thread, alone relieved the tension of silence in which 
this act of suffering was completed. Its atmos- 
phere was becoming intolerable, like that of a night- 
mare; and Lysbet was feeling that she must speak 
and move, and so dissipate it, when there was a loud 
knock at the front door. 

Katherine trembled all over. ‘‘To-day I can not 
bear it, mother. No one can I see. I will go upstairs.” 

Ere the words were finished, Mrs. Gordon’s voice 
was audible. She came into the room laughing, 
with the smell of fresh violets and the feeling of 
the brisk wind around her. “Dear madam,” she 
cried, “I entreat you for a favor. I am going to 
take the air this afternoon: be so good as to let 
Katherine come with me. For I must tell you that 
the colonel has orders for Boston, and I may see 
my charming friend no more after to-day.” 


192 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

‘‘Katherine, what say you? Will you go?” 

“Please, mijn moeder.” 

“Make great haste, then.” For Lysbet was 
pleased with the offer, and fearful that Joris might 
arrive, and refuse to let his daughter accept it. She 
hoped that Katherine would receive some comfort- 
ing message; and she was glad that on this day, of 
all others. Captain Hyde’s aunt should be seen with 
her. It would in some measure stop evil surmises ; 
and it left an air of uncertainty about the captain’s 
relationship to Katherine, which made the humilia- 
tion of his departure less keen. 

“Stay not long,” she whispered, “for your father’s 
sake. There is no good, more trouble to give him.” 

“Well, my dear, you look like a ghost. Have you 
not one smile for a woman so completely in your in- 
terest? When I promised Dick this morning that 
I would be sure to get word to you, I was at my 
wits’ end to discover a way. But, when I am be- 
tween the horns of a dilemma, I find it the best plan 
to take the bull by the horns. Hence, I have made 
you a visit which seems to have quite nonplused 
you and your good mother.” 

“I thought Richard had gone.” 

“And you were breaking your heart, that is easy 
to be seen. He has gone, but he will come back to- 
night at eight o’clock. No matter what happens, be 
at the river-side. Do not fail Dick : he is taking his 
life in his hand to see you.” 

“I will be there.” 

“La! what are you crying for, child? Poor 


KATHERINES DECISION 


193 

girl ! What are you crying for ? Dick, the scamp ? 
He is not worthy of such pure tears; and yet, be- 
lieve me, he loves you to distraction.” 

‘‘I thought he had gone — gone, without a word.” 

‘Taith, you are not complimentary ! I flatter my- 
self that our Dick is a gentleman. I do, indeed. 
And, as he is yet perfectly in his senses, you might 
have trusted him.” 

‘‘And you, do you go to Boston to-morrow?” 

“The colonel does. At present, I have no such 
intention. But I had to have some extraordinary 
excuse, and I could invent no other. However, you 
may say anything, if you only say it with an assur- 
ance. Madam wished me a pleasant journey. I felt 
a little sorry to deceive so fine a lady.” 

“When will Richard return?” 

“Indeed, I think you will have to answer for his 
resolves. But he will speak for himself; and, in 
faith, I told him that he had come to a point where I 
would no longer be responsible for his actions. I am 
thankful to own that I have some conscience left.” 

The ride was not a very pleasant one. Katherine 
could not help feeling that Mrs. Gordon was dis- 
trait and inconsistent; and, toward its close, she 
became very silent. Yet she kissed her kindly, and 
drawing her closely for a last word, said : “Do not 
forget to wear your wadded cloak and hood. You 
may have to take the water ; for the councilor is very 
suspicious, let me tell you. Remember what I say — 
the wadded cloak and hood; and good-by, good-by, 
my dear.” 


194 the bow of orange RIBBON 

“Shall I see you soon ?” 

“When we may meet again, I do not pretend to 
say: till then, I am entirely yours; and so again 
good-by.’’ 

The ride had not occupied an hour; but, when 
Katherine got home, Lysbet was making tea. “A 
cup will be good for you, mijn kindF And she 
smiled tenderly in the face that had been so white 
in its woful anguish, but on which there was now 
the gleam of hope. And she perceived that Kathe- 
rine had received some message, she even divined 
that there might be some appointment to keep ; and 
she determined not to be too wise and prudent, but 
to trust Katherine for this evening with her own 
destiny. 

That night there was a meeting at the Town 
Hall, and Joris left the house soon after his tea. 
He was greatly touched by Katherine’s effort to 
appear cheerful; and when she followed him to the 
door, and, ere he opened it, put her arms round his 
neck, and kissed him, murmuring : “My father, mijn 
vaderT he could not restrain his tears. 

''Mijn kind, my liefste kindT he answered. And 
then his soul in its great emotion turned affection- 
ately to the supreme fatherhood ; for he whispered 
to himself, as he walked slowly and solemnly in the 
pleasant evening light: 'Gelijk zich een vader ont- 
fermt over de kinder enf ^ Oh, so great must be 
Thy pity ! My own heart can tell that now.” 

For an hour or more Katherine sat in the broad 
‘‘Like as a father pitieth his children,’* 


KATHERINES DECISION 195 

light of the window, folding and unfolding the 
pieces of white linen, sewing a stitch or two here, 
and putting on a button or tape there. Madam 
passed quietly to and fro about her home duties, 
sometimes stopping to say a few words to her 
daughter. It was a little interval of household calm, 
full of household work; of love assured without 
need of words, of confidence anchored in undoubt- 
ing souls. When Lysbet was ready to do so, she 
began to lay into the deep drawers of the presses 
the table-linen which Katherine had so neatly and 
carefully examined. Over a pile of fine damask nap- 
kins she stood, with a perplexed, annoyed face ; and 
Katherine, detecting it, at once understood the cause. 

‘‘One is wanting of the dozen, mother. At 
the last cake-baking, with the dish of cake sent 
to Joanna it went. Back it has not come.’’ 

“For it you might go, Katherine. I like not 
that my sets are broken.'' 

Katherine blushed scarlet. This was the oppor- 
tunity she wanted. She wondered if her mother 
suspected the want; but Lysbet's face expressed 
only a little worry about the missing damask. 
Slowly, though her heart beat almost at her lips, 
she folded away her work, and put her needle, and 
thread, and thimble, and scissors, each in its proper 
place in her housewife. So deliberate were all her 
actions, that Lysbet's suspicions were almost allayed. 
Yet she thought, “If out she wishes to go, leave I 
have now given her; and, if not, still’ the walk will 
do her some good.’’ And yet there was in her heart 


196 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

just that element of doubt, which, whenever it is 
present, ought to make us pause and reconsider the 
words we are going to speak or write, and the deed 
we are going to do. 

The nights were yet chilly — though the first 
blooms were on the trees — and the wadded cloak 
and hood were not so far out of season as to cause 
remark. As she came downstairs, the clock struck 
seven. There was yet an hour, and she durst not 
wait so long at the bottom of the garden while it 
was early in the evening. When her work was done, 
Lysbet frequently walked down : she had a motherly 
interest in the budding fruit trees and the growing 
flowers. And a singular reluctance to leave home 
assailed Katherine. If she had known that it was 
to be forever, her soul could not have more sensibly 
taken its farewell of all the dear, familiar objects 
of her daily life. About her mother this feeling cul- 
minated. She found her cap a little out of place; 
and her fingers lingered in the lace, and stroked 
fondly her hair and pink cheeks, until Lysbet felt 
almost embarrassed by the tender but unusual show 
of affection. 

‘‘Now then, go, my Katherine. To Joanna give 
my dear love. Tell her that very good were the 
cheesecakes and the cruellers, and that to-morrow 
I will come over and see the new carpet they have 
bought.” 

And while she spoke she was retying Katherine’s 
hood, and admiring as she did so the fair, sweet face 
in its quiltings of crimson satin, and the small, dim- 


KATHERINES DECISION 197 

pled chin resting upon the fine bow she tied under 
it. Then she followed her to the door, and watched 
her down the road until she saw her meet Dominie 
Van Linden, and stand a moment holding his hand. 
“A message I am going for my mother,’’ she said, 
as she firmly refused his escort. ‘‘Then with madam, 
your mother, I will sit until you return,” he replied 
cheerfully; and Katherine answered, “That will be 
a great pleasure to her, sir.” 

A little farther she walked; but suddenly re- 
membering that the dominie’s visit would keep her 
mother in the house, and being made restless by the 
gathering of the night shadows, she turned quickly, 
and taking the very road up which Hyde had come 
the night Neil Semple challenged him, she entered 
the garden by a small gate at its foot, which was 
intended for the gardener’s use. The lilacs had not 
much foliage, but in the dim light her dark, slim 
figure was undistinguishable behind them. Long- 
ingly and anxiously she looked up and down the 
■water-way. A mist was gathering over it; and 
there were no boats in the channel except two pleas- 
ure-shallops, already tacking to their proper piers. 
The “Dauntless” had been out of sight for hours. 
There was not the splash of an oar, and no other 
river sound at that point, but the low, peculiar 
“wish-h-h” of the turning tide. 

In the pettiest character there are unfathomable 
depths; and Katherine’s, though yet undeveloped, 
was full of noble aspirations and singularly sensi- 
tive. As she stood there alone, watching and wait- 


198 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

ing in the dim light, she had a strange consciousness 
of some mysterious life ante-dating this life ; and of 
a long-forgotten voice filling the ear-chambers of 
that spiritual body which was the celestial inhabi- 
tant of her natural body. ''Richard, Richard'' she 
murmured ; and she never doubted but that he heard 
her. 

All her senses were keenly on the alert. Sud- 
denly there was the sound of oars, and the measure 
was that of steady, powerful strokes. She turned 
her face southward, and watched. Like a flash a 
boat shot out of the shadow — a long, swift boat, 
that came like a Fate, rapidly and without hesita- 
tion, to her very feet. Richard quickly left it, and 
with a few strokes it was carried back into the dim- 
ness of the central channel. Then he turned to the 
lilac trees. 

“Katherine!’^ 

It was but a whisper, but she heard it. He 
opened his arms, and she flew to their shelter like 
a bird to her mate. 

“My love, my wife, my beautiful wife ! My true, 
good heart! Now, at last, my own: nothing shall 
part us again, Katherine — never again. I have come 
for you — come at all risks for you. Only five min- 
utes the boat can wait. Are you ready 

“I know not, Richard. My father — my 
mother — ” 

“My husband! Say that also, beloved. Am I 
not first? If you will not go with me, here I shall 
stay; and, as I am still on duty, death and dis- 


KATHERINE’S DECISION 199 

honor will be the end. Oh, Katherine, shall I die 
again for you? Will you break my sword in dis- 
grace over my head? Faith, darling, I know that 
you would rather die for me.’’ 

"If one word I could send them! They suspect 
me not. They think you are gone. It will kill my 
father.” 

""You shall write to them on the ship. There 
are a dozen fishing-boats near it. We will send 
the letter by one of them. They will get it early 
in the morning. Sweet Kate, come. Here is the 
boat. The "Dauntless’ lies down the bay, and we 
have a long pull. My wife, do you need more 
persuasion ?” 

He released her from his embrace with the words, 
and stood holding her hands, and looking into her 
face. No woman is insensible to a certain kind 
of authority; and there was fascination as well as 
power in Hyde’s words and manner, emphasized 
by the splendor of the uniform, and the air of com- 
mand that seemed to be a part of it. 

""It is for you to decide, Katherine. The boat is 
here. Even I must obey or disobey orders. Will 
you not go with me, your husband, to love and 
life and honor; or shall I stay with you, for dis- 
grace and death? For from you I will not part 
again.” 

She had no time to consider how much truth 
there was in this desperate statement. The boat 
was waiting. Richard was wooing her consent 
with kisses and entreaties. Her own soul urged 


200 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

her, not only by the joy of his presence, but by 
the memory of the anguish she had endured that 
day in the terror of his desertion. From the first 
moment she had hesitated; therefore, from the first 
moment she had yielded. She clung to her hus- 
band's arm, she lifted her face to his, she said softly, 
but clearly, “I will go with you, Richard. With 
you I will go. Where to, I care not at all." 

They stepped into the boat, and Hyde said, 
‘‘Oars." Not a word was spoken. He held her 
within his left arm, close to his side, and partially 
covered with his military cloak. It was the boat 
belonging to the commander of the “Dauntless," 
and the six sailors manning it sent the light craft 
flying like an arrow down the bay. All the past 
was behind her. She had done what was irrevoca- 
ble. For joy or for sorrow, her place was evermore 
at her husband's side. Richard understood the de- 
cision she was coming to; knew that every doubt 
and fear had vanished when her hand stole into his 
hand, when she slightly lifted her face, and whis- 
pered, “Richard." 

They were practically alone upon the misty river ; 
and Richard answered the tender call with sweet, 
impassioned kisses; with low, lover-like, encourag- 
ing words; with a silence that thrilled with such 
soft beat and subsidence of the spirit's wing, as : 

“When it feels, in cloud-girt wayfaring, 

The breath of kindred plumes against its feet” 


CHAPTER X 


POPULAR OPINION 

‘‘Good people, how they wrangle ! 

The manners that they never mend, 

The characters they mangle! 

They eat and drink, and scheme and plod, 
And go to church on Sunday; 

And many are afraid of God, 

And some of Mrs. Grundy.” 

— Blackie. 

“The waste and solitary space that girdles round our daily 
life.” 

D uring that same hour Joris was in the town 
council. There had been a stormy and pro- 
longed session on the Quartering Act. “To little 
purpose have we compelled the revocation of the 
Stamp Act,” he cried, “if the Quartering Act upon 
us is to be forced. We want not English soldiers 
here. In our homes why should we quarter them ?” 

All the way home he was asking himself the ques- 
tion; and, when he found Dominie Van Linden talk- 
ing to Lysbet, he gladly discussed it over again with 
him. Lysbet sat beside them, knitting and listen- 
ing. Until after nine o’clock, Joris did not notice 
the absence of his daughter. “She went to Jo- 
anna’s,” said Lysbet calmly. No fear had yet en- 
tered her heart. Perhaps she had a vague suspicion 
that Katherine might also go to Mrs. Gordon’s, and 


201 


202 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


she was inclined to avoid any notice of the lateness 
of the hour. If it were even ten o’clock when she 
returned, Lysbet intended to make no remarks. But 
ten o’clock came, and the dominie went, and Joris 
suddenly became anxious about Katherine. 

His first anger fell upon Bram. “He ought to 
have been at home. Then he could have gone for 
his sister. He is not attentive enough to Katherine ; 
and very fond is he of hanging about Miriam 
Cohen’s doorstep.” 

“What say you, Joris, about Miriam Cohen?’' 

“I spoke in my temper.” 

He would not explain his words, and Lysbet 
would not worry him about Katherine. “To Jo- 
anna’s she went, and Batavius is in Boston. Very 
well, then, she has stayed with her sister.” 

Still, in her own heart there was a certain uneasi- 
ness. Katherine had never remained all night be- 
fore without sending some message or on a previous 
understanding to that effect. But the absence of 
Batavius, and the late hour at which she went, 
might account for the omission, especially as Lys- 
bet remembered that Joanna’s servant had been sick, 
and might be unfit to come. She was determined 
to excuse Katherine, and she refused to acknowl- 
edge the dumb doubt and fear that crouched at her 
own heart. 

In the morning Joris rose very early and went 
into the garden. Generally this service to nature 
calmed and cheered him ; but he came to breakfast 
from it, silent and cross. And Lysbet was still dis- 


POPULAR OPINION 


203 


inclined to open a conversation about Katherine. 
She had enough to do to combat her own feeling 
on the subject; and she was sensible that Joris, in 
the absence of any definite object for his anger, 
blamed her for permitting Katherine so much liberty. 

‘'Where, then, is Bram?” he asked testily. “When 
I was a young man, it was the garden or the store 
for me before this hour. Too much you indulge the 
children, Lysbet.’’ 

“Bram was late to bed. He was on the watch 
last night at the pole. You know, councilor, who 
in that kind of business has encouraged him.” 

“Every night the watch is not for him.” 

“Oh, then, but the bad habit is made !” 

“Well, well : tell him to Joanna’s to go the first 
thing, and to send home Katherine. I like her not 
in the house of Batavius.” 

“Joanna is her sister, Joris.” 

“Joanna is nothing at all in this world but the 
wife of Batavius. Send for Katherine home. I 
like her best to be with her mother.” 

As he spoke, Bram came to the table, looking a 
little heavy and sleepy. Joris rose without more 
words, and in a few moments the door shut sharply 
behind him. “What is the matter with my father?” 

“Cross he is.” By this time Lysbet was also 
cross; and she continued, “No wonder at it. Kath- 
erine has stayed at Joanna’s all night, and late to 
breakfast were you. Yet ever since you were a lit- 
tle boy, you have heard your father say one thing, 
‘Late to breakfast, hurried at dinner, behind at sup- 


204 the bow of orange RIBBON 

per;* and I also have noticed, that, when the comfort 
of the breakfast is spoiled, then all the day its bad 
influence is felt.” 

In the mean time Joris reached his store in that 
mood which apprehends trouble, and finds out an- 
noyances that under other circumstances would not 
have any attention. The store was in its normal 
condition, but he was angry at the want of order in 
it. The mail was no later than usual, but he com- 
plained of its delay. He was threatening a gen- 
eral reform in everything and everybody, when a 
man came to the door, and looked up at the name 
above it. 

‘‘Joris Van Heemskirk is the name, sir;” and 
Joris went forward, and asked a little curtly, 
“What, then, can I do for you?” 

“I am Martin Hudde the fisherman.” 

“Well, then?” 

“If you are Joris Van Heemskirk, I have a let- 
ter for you. I got it from the ‘Dauntless’ last 
night, when I was fishing in the bay.” 

Without a word Joris took the letter, turned into 
his office, and shut the door; and Hudde muttered 
as he left, “I am glad that I got a crown for it, for 
here I have not got a ‘thank you.’ ” 

It was Katherine’s writing ; and Joris held the 
folded paper in his hand, and looked stupidly at it. 
The truth was forcing itself into his mind, and the 
slow-coming conviction was a real physical agony 
to him. He put his hand on the desk to steady 
himself ; and Nature, in great drops of sweat, made 


POPULAR OPINION 


205 

an effort to relieve the oppression and stupor which 
followed the blow. In a few minutes he opened 
and laid it before him. Through a mist he made 
out these words : 

‘"My Father and My Mother — I have gone 
with my husband. I married Richard when he was 
ill, and to-night he came for me. When I left home, 
I knew not I was to go. Only five minutes I had. 
In God’s name, this is the truth. Always, at the 
end of the world, I shall love you. Forgive me, 
forgive me, mijn fader, mijn moeder. 

‘Wour child, 

“Katherine Hyde.” 

He tore the letter into fragments; but the next 
moment he picked them up, folded them in a piece 
of paper, and put them in his pocket. Then he 
went to Mrs. Gordon’s. She had anticipated the 
visit, and was, in a measure, prepared for it. With 
a smile and outstretched hand, she rose from her 
chocolate to meet him. “You see, I am a terrible 
sluggard, councilor,” she laughed; “but the colonel 
left early for Boston this morning, and I cried my- 
self into another sleep. And will you have a cup 
of chocolate? I am sure you are too polite to 
refuse me.” 

“Madam, I came not on courtesy, but for my 
daughter. Where is my Katherine?” 

“Truth, sir, I believe her to be where every 
woman wishes — with her husband. I am sure I 
wish the colonel was with me.” 


2o6 the bow of orange RIBBON 

‘^Her husband! Who, then?’^ 

“Indeed, councilor, that is a question easily an- 
swered — my nephew. Captain Hyde, at your service. 
You perceive, sir, we are now connections; and I 
assure you I have the highest sense imaginable of 
the honor.” 

“When were they married ?” 

“In faith, I have forgotten the precise date. It 
was in last October; I know it was, because I had 
just received my winter manteau — my blue velvet 
one, with the fur bands.” 

“Who married them?” 

“Oh, indeed! It was the governor’s chaplain — 
the Rev. Mr. Somers, a relative of my Lord Somers, 
a most estimable and respectable person, I assure 
you. Colonel Gordon and Captain Earle and my- 
self were the witnesses. The governor gave the 
license; and, in consideration of Dick’s health, the 
ceremony was performed in his room. All’ was per- 
fectly correct and regular, I — ” 

“It is not the truth. Pardon, madam: full of 
trouble am I. And it was all irregular, and very 
wicked, and very cruel. If regular and right it had 
been, then in secret it had not taken place.” 

“Admit, councilor, that then it had not taken 
place at all; or, at least, Richard would have had 
to wait until Katherine was of age.” 

“So ; and that would have been right. Until then, 
if love had lasted, I would have said, ‘Their love is 
stronger than my dislike;’ and I would have been 
content.” 


POTULAR OPINION 


207 

“Ah, sir, there was more to the question than 
that! My nephew’s chances for life were very in- 
different, and he desired to shield Katherine’s name 
with his own — ” 

''Christus! What say you, madam? Had Kath- 
erine no father ?” 

“Oh, be not so warm, councilor! A husband’s 
name is a far bigger shield than a father’s. I as- 
sure you that the world forgives a married woman 
what it would not forgive an angel. And I must 
tell you, also, that Dick’s very life depended on the 
contentment which he felt in his success. It is the 
part of humanity to consider that.” 

“Twice over deceived I have been then — ” 

“In short, sir, there was no help for it. Dick 
received a most unexpected favor of a year’s fur- 
lough two days ago. It was important for his 
wounded lung that he should go at once to a warm 
climate. The ‘Dauntless’ was on the point of sail- 
ing for the West Indies. To have bestowed our 
confidence on you would have delayed or detained 
our patient, or sent him away without his wife. It 
was my fault that Katherine had only five minutes 
given her. Oh, sir, I know my own sex! And, if 
you will take time to reflect, I am sure that you 
will be reasonable.” 

“Without his wife! His wife! Without my 
consent? No, she is not his wife.” 

“Sir, you must excuse me if I do not honor your 
intelligence or your courtesy. I have said 'she is his 
zvife/ It is past a doubt that they are married.” 


2o8 the bow of orange RIBBON 

‘‘I know not, I know not— Oh, my Katherine, 
my Katherine !” 

‘‘I pray you, sit down, councilor. You look 
faint and ill; and in faith I am very sorry, that, 
to make two people happy, others must be made 
so wretched.” She rose and filled a glass with wine, 
and offered it to Joris, who was the very image of 
mental suffering — all the fine color gone out of his 
face, and his large blue eyes swimming in unshed 
tears. 

‘‘Drink, sir. Upon my word, you are vastly fool- 
ish to grieve so. I protest to you that Katherine is 
happy; and grieving will not restore your loss.” 

“For that reason I grieve, madam. Nothing can 
give me back my child.” 

“Come, sir, every one has his calamity ; and, upon 
my word, you are very fortunate to have one no 
greater than the marriage of your daughter to an 
agreeable man, of honorable profession and noble 
family.” 

“Five minutes only ! How could the child think ! 
To take her away thus was cruel. Many things a 
woman needs when she journeys.” 

“Oh, indeed, Katherine was well considered! I 
myself packed a trunk for her with every conceiv- 
able necessity, as well as gowns and manteaus of the 
finest material and the most elegant fashion. If 
Dick had been permitted, he would have robbed the 
Province for her. I assure you that I had to lock 
my trunks to preserve a change of gowns for my- 
self. When the colonel returns, he will satisfy you 


POPULAR OPINION 


209 


that Katherine has done tolerably well in her mar- 
riage with our nephew. And, indeed, I must beg 
you to excuse me further. I have been in a hurry 
of affairs and emotions for two days; and I am 
troubled with the vapors this morning, and feel 
myself very indifferently.’’ 

Then Joris understood that he had been politely 
dismissed. But there was no unkindness in the act. 
He glanced at the effusive little lady, and saw that 
she was on the point of crying, and very likely in 
the first pangs of a nervous headache; and, without 
further words, he left her. 

The interview had given Joris very little comfort. 
At first, his great terror had been that Katherine had 
fled without any religious sanction; but no sooner 
was this fear dissipated than he became conscious, 
in all its force, of his own personal loss and sense 
of grievance. From Mrs. Gordon’s lodgings he 
went to those of Dominie Van Linden. He felt 
sure of his personal sympathy; and he knew that 
the dominie would be the best person to investigate 
the circumstances of the marriage, and authenticate 
their propriety. 

Then Joris went home. On his road he met 
Bram, full of the first terror of his sister’s disap- 
pearance. He told him all that was necessary, and 
sent him back to the store. ‘‘And see you keep a 
modest face, and make no great matter of it,” he 
said. “Be not troubled nor elated. It belongs to 
you to be very prudent ; for your sister’s good name 
is in your care, and this is a sorrow outsiders may 


210 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


not meddle with. Also, at once go back to Joanna’s, 
and tell her the same thing. I will not have Kath- 
erine made a wonder to gaping women.” 

Lysbet was still a little on the defensive; but, 
when she saw Joris coming home, her heart turned 
sick with fear. She was beating eggs for her 
cake-making, and she went on with the occupa- 
tion; merely looking up to say, ‘‘Thee, Joris; din- 
ner will not be ready for two hours! Art thou 
sick?” 

“Katherine — she has gone!” 

“Gone? And where, then?” 

“With that Englishman; in the ‘Dauntless’ they 
have gone.” 

“Believe it not. The ‘Dauntless’ left yesterday 
morning : Katherine at seven o’clock last night was 
with me.” 

“Ah, he must have returned for her! Well he 
knew that if he did not steal her away, I had taken 
her from him. Yes, and I feared him. When I 
heard that the ‘Dauntless’ was to take him to the 
West Indies, I watched the ship. After I kissed 
Katherine yesterday morning, I went straight to the 
pier, and waited until she was on her way.” Then 
he told her all Mrs. Gordon had said, and showed 
her the fragments of Katherine’s letter. The mother 
kissed them, and put them in her bosom ; and, as she 
did so, she said softly : “It was a great strait, Joris.” 

“Well, well, we also must pass through it. The 
Dominie Van Linden has gone to examine the rec- 
ords; and then, if she his lawful wife be, in the 


POPULAR OPINION 


211 


newspapers I must advertise the marriage. Much 
talk and many questions I shall have to bear.” 

'If/ 'if she his lawful wife be!’ Say not 'if 
in my hearing ; say not 'if’ of my Katherine.” 

"When a girl runs away from her home — ” 

"With her husband she went; keep that in mind 
when people speak to thee.” 

"What kind of a husband will he be to her?” 

"Well, then, I think not bad of him. Nearer 
home there are worse men. Now, if sensible thou 
be, thou wilt make the best of what is beyond thy 
power. Every bird its own nest builds in its own 
way. Nay, but blind birds are we all, and God 
builds for us. This marriage of God’s ordering 
may be, though not of thy ordering; and against 
it I would no longer fight. I think my Katherine 
is happy; and happy with her I will be, though the 
child in her joy I see not.” 

"So much talk as there will be. In the store 
and the streets, a man must listen. And some with 
me will condole, and some with congratulations will 
come; and both to me will be vinegar and gall.” 

"To all — friends and unfriends — say this : 'Every 
one chooses for themselves. Captain Hyde loved 
my daughter, and for her love nearly he died ; and 
my daughter loved him; and what has been from 
the creation will be.’ Say also : 'Worse might have 
come ; for he hath a good heart, and in the army he 
is much loved, and of a very high family is he.’ 
Joris, let me see thee pluck up thy courage, like a 
man. Better may come of this than has come 


212 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


of things better looking. Much we thought of 
Batavius — ” 

‘‘On that subject wilt thou be quiet?” 

“And if at poor little Katherine thou be angry, 
speak out thy mind to me; to others, say nothing 
but well of the dear one. Now, then I will get thee 
thy dinner ; for in sorrow a good meal' is a good 
medicine.” 

While they were eating this early dinner, Joanna 
came in, sad and tearful; and with loud lamentings 
she threw herself upon her mother’s neck. “What, 
then, is the matter with thee?” asked Lysbet, with 
great composure. 

“Oh, mother, my Katherine! my sister Kath- 
erine !” 

“I thought perhaps thou had bad news of Bata- 
vius. Thy sister Katherine hath married a very 
fine gentleman, and she is happy. For thou must 
remember that all the good men do not come from 
Dordrecht.” 

“I am glad that so you take it. I thought in very 
great sorrow you would be.” 

“See that you do not say such words to any one, 
Joanna. Very angry will I be if I hear them. Bata- 
vius, also; he must be quiet on this matter.” 

“Oh, then, Batavius has many things of greater 
moment to think about! Of Katherine he never 
approved; and the talk there will be, he will not 
like it. Before from Boston he comes back, I shall 
be glad to have it over.” 

“None of his affair it is,” said Joris. “Of my 


POPULAR OPINION 


213 

own house and my own daughter, I can take the 
care. And if he like the talk, or if he like not the 
talk, there it will be. Who will stop talking because 
Batavius comes home ?” 

When Joris spoke in this tone on any subject, no 
one wished to continue it; and it was not until her 
father had left the house that Joanna asked her 
mother particularly about Katherine’s marriage. 
‘‘Was she sure of it? Had they proofs? Would it 
be legal ? More than a dozen people stopped me as 
I came over here,’' she said, “and asked me about 
everything.” 

“I know not how more than a dozen people knew 
of anything, Joanna. But many ill-natured words 
will be spoken, doubtless. Even Janet Semple came 
here yesterday, thinking over Katherine to exult a 
little. But Katherine is a great deal beyond her to- 
day. And perhaps a countess she may yet be. That 
is what her husband said to thy father.” 

“I knew not that he spoke to my father about 
Katherine.” 

“Thou knows not all things. Before thou wert 
married to Batavius, before Neil Semple nearly 
murdered him, he asked of thy father her hand. 
Thou wast born on thy wedding day, I think. All 
things that happened before it have from thy mem- 
ory passed away.” 

“Well, I am a good wife, I know that. That also 
is what Batavius says. Just before I got to the 
gate, I met Madam Semple and Gertrude Van Gaas- 
beeck ; they had been shopping together.” 


214 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

“Did they speak of Katherine?’' 

“Indeed they did.” 

“Or did you speak first, Joanna? It is an evil 
bird that pulls to pieces its own nest.” 

“Oh, mother, scolded I can not be for Katherine’s 
folly! My Batavius always said: 'The favorite is 
Katherine.’ Always he thought that of me too 
much was expected. And Madam Semple said — 
and always she liked Katherine — that very badly 
had she behaved for a whole year, and that the end 
was what everybody had looked for. It is on me 
very hard — I who have always been modest, and 
taken care of my good name. Nobody in the whole 
city will have one kind word to say for Katherine. 
You will see that is so, mother.” 

“You will see something very different, Joanna. 
Many will praise Katherine, for she to herself has 
done well. And, when back she comes, at the gov- 
ernor’s she will visit, and with all the great ladies; 
and not one among them will be so lovely as Kath- 
erine Hyde.” 

And, if Joanna had been in Madam Semple’s par- 
lor a few hours later, she would have had a most 
decided illustration of Lysbet’s faith in the popular 
verdict. Madam was sitting at her tea-table talk- 
ing to the elder, who had brought home with him 
the full supplement to Joanna’s story. Both were 
really sorry for their old friends, although there is 
something in the best kind of human nature that in- 
dorses the punishment of those things in which old 
friends differ from us. 


POPULAR OPINION 


215 

Neil had heard nothing. He had been shut up 
in his office all day over an important suit; and, 
when he took the street again, he was weary, and 
far from being inclined to join any acquaintances 
in conversation. In fact, the absorbing topic was 
one which no one cared to introduce in NeiFs pres- 
ence; and he himself was too full of professional 
matters to notice that he attracted more than usual 
attention from the yoiing men standing around the 
store doors, and the officers lounging in front of the 
King’s Arms Tavern. 

He was irritable, too, with exhaustion, though he 
was doing his best to keep himself in control; and 
when madam his mother said pointedly : “I’m fear- 
ing, Neil, that the bad news has made you ill; you 
arena at a’ like yoursel’,” he asked without much 
interest : “What bad news ?” 

“The news anent Katherine Van Heemskirk.” 

He had supposed it was some political disappoint- 
ment, and at Katherine’s name his pale face grew 
suddenly crimson. 

“What of her?” he asked. 

“Didna you hear? She ran awa’ last night wi’ 
Captain Hyde; stole awa’ wi’ him on the ‘Daunt- 
less.’ ” 

“She would have the right to go with him, I have 
no doubt,” said Neil with guarded calmness. 

“Do you really think she was his wife?” 

“If she went with him, / am sure she wasP He 
dropped the words with an emphatic precision, and 
looked with gloomy eyes out of the window ; 


2i6 the bow of orange RIBBON 

gloomy, but steadfast, as if he were trying to face 
a future in which there was no hope. His mother 
did not observe him. She went on prattling as she 
filled the elder’s cup: “If there had been any wed- 
ding worth the name o’ the thing, we would hae 
been bidden to it. I dinna believe she is married.” 

“Are you sure that she sailed with Captain Hyde 
in the ‘Dauntless,’ or is it a pack of women’s tales?” 

“The news cam’ wi’ your fayther the elder,” an- 
swered madam, much offended. “You can mak’ 
your inquiries there if you think he’s mair reliable 
than I am.” 

Neil looked at his father, and the elder said 
quietly: “I wouldna be positive anent any woman: 
the bad are whiles good, and the good are whiles 
bad. But there is nae doubt that Katherine has 
gone with Hyde; and I heard that the military at 
the King’s Arms have been drinking bumpers to 
Captain Hyde and his bride; and I know that Mrs. 
Gordon has said they were married lang syne, when 
Hyde couldna raise himsel’ or put a foot to the 
ground. But Joanna told your mother she had 
neither seen nor heard tell o’ book, ring, or minis- 
ter ; and, as I say, for mysel’ I’ll no venture a posi- 
tive opinion, but I think the lassie is married to the 
man she’s off an’ awa’ wi’.” 

“But if she isna?” persisted madam. 

In a moment Neil let slip the rein in which he 
had been holding himself, and in a slow, intense 
voice answered : “I shall make it my business to 
find out. If Katherine is married, God bless her! 


POPULAR OPINION 


217 


If she is not, I will follow Hyde around and around 
the world until I cleave his false heart in two.” His 
passion gathered with its utterance. He pushed 
away his chair, and put down his cup so indiffer- 
ently that it missed the table and fell with a crash 
to the floor. 

“Oh, my cheeny, my cheeny! Oh, my bonnie 
cups that I hae used for forty years, and no’ a piece 
broken afore!” 

“Ah, weel, Janet,” said the elder, “you shouldna 
badger an angry man when he’s drinking from your 
best cups.” 

“I canna mend nor match it in the whole Prov- 
ince, elder. Oh, my bonnie cup!” 

“I was thinking, Janet, o’ Katherine’s good name. 
If it is gane, it is neither to mend nor to match in 
the whole wide world. I’ll awa’ and see Joris and 
Lysbet. And put every cross thought where you’ll 
never find them again, Janet; and tak’ your good- 
will in your hands, and come wi’ me. Lysbet will 
want to see you.” 

“Not her, indeed ! I can tell you, elder, that Lys- 
bet was vera cool and queer wi’ me yesterday.” 

“Come, Janet, dinna keep your good-nature in 
remnants. Let’s hae enough to make a cloak big 
enough to cover a’ bygone faults.” 

“I think, then, I ought to stay wi’ Neil.” 

“Neil doesna want anybody near him. Leave 
him alane. Neil’s a’ right. Forty years syne I 
would hae broke my mother’s cheeny, and drawn 
steel as quick as Neil did, if I heard a word against 


2i8 the bow of orange RIBBON 

bonnie Janet Gordon.’’ And the old man made his 
wife a bow; and madam blushed with pleasure, and 
went upstairs to put on her bonnet and India 
shawl. 

“Woman, woman,” meditated the smiling elder; 
“she is never too angry to be won wi’ a mouthful 
o’ sweet words, special if you add a bow or a kiss 
to them. My certie! when a husband can get his 
ain way at sic a sma’ price, it’s just wonder fu’ he 
doesna buy it in perpetuity.” 

Joris was somewhat comforted by his old friend’s 
sympathy; for the elder, in the hour of trial, knew 
how to be magnanimous. But the father’s wound 
lay deeper than human love could reach. He was 
suffering from what all suffer who are wounded in 
their affections; for alas, alas, how poorly do we 
love even those whom we love most! We are not 
only bruised by the limitations of their love for us, 
but also by the limitations of our own love for them. 
And those who know what it is to be strong enough 
to wrestle, and yet not strong enough to overcome, 
will understand how the grief, the anger, the jeal- 
ousy, the resentment, from which he suffered, 
amazed Joris ; he had not realized before the depth 
and strength of his feelings. 

He tried to put the memory of Katherine away, 
but he could not accomplish a miracle. The girl’s 
face was ever before him. He felt her caressing 
fingers linked in his own ; and, as he walked in his 
house and his garden, her small feet pattered beside 
him. For as there are in creation invisible bonds 


POPULAR OPINION 


219 

that do not break like mortal bonds, so also there 
are correspondences subsisting between souls, despite 
the separation of distance. 

would forget Katherine if I could,” he said 
to Dominie Van Linden; and the good man, bravely 
putting aside his private grief, took the hands of 
Joris in his own, and bending toward him, an- 
swered : “That would be a great pity. Why for- 
get? Trust, rather, that out of sorrow God will 
bring to you joy.” 

“Not natural is that, dominie. How can it be? 
I do not understand how it can be.” 

“You do not understand! Well, then, och mijn 
j on gen, what matters comprehension, if you have 
faith? Trust, now, that it is well with the child.” 

But Joris believed it was ill with her; and he 
blamed not only himself, but every one in connec- 
tion with Katherine, for results which he was cer- 
tain might have been foreseen and prevented. Did 
he not foresee them? Had he not spoken plainly 
enough to Hyde and to Lysbet and to the child her- 
self? He should have sent her to Albany, to her 
sister Cornelia. For he believed now that Lysbet 
had not cordially disapproved of Hyde; and as for 
Joanna, she had been far too much occupied .with 
Batavius and her own marriage to care for any 
other thing. And one of his great fears was that 
Katherine also would forget her father and mother 
and home, and become a willing alien from her 
own people. 

He was so wrapped up in his grief that he did 


220 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


not notice Bram was suffering also. Bram got the 
brunt of the world’s wonderings and inquiries. 
People who did not like to ask Joris questions felt 
no such delicacy with Bram. And Bram not only 
tenderly loved his sister : he hated with the unrea- 
soning passion of youth the entire English soldiery. 
He made no exception now. They were the visible 
marks of a subjection which he was sworn, heart 
and soul, to oppose. It humiliated him among his 
fellows that his sister should have fled with one of 
them. It gave those who envied and disliked him 
an opportunity of inflicting covert and cruel wounds. 
Joris could, in some degree, control himself; he 
could speak of the marriage with regret, but with- 
out passion ; he had even alluded, in some cases, to 
Hyde’s family and expectations. The majority be- 
lieved that he was secretly a little proud of the alli- 
ance. But Bram was aflame with indignation ; first, 
if the marriage were at all doubtful; second, if it 
were supposed to be a satisfactory one to any mem- 
ber of the Van Heemskirk family. 

As to the doubters, they were completely silenced 
when the next issue of the “New York Gazette” 
appeared; for among its most conspicuous adver- 
tisements was the following: 

“Married, Oct. 19, 1765, by the Rev. Mr. Somers, 
chaplain to his Excellency the Governor, Richard 
Drake Hyde of Hyde Manor, Norfolk, son of the 
late Richard Drake Hyde, and brother of William 
Drake Hyde, Earl of Dorset and Hyde, to Kath- 


POPULAR OPINION 


221 


erine, the youngest daughter of Joris and Lysbet 
Van Heemskirk, of the city and province of New 
York. 

^Witnesses: Nigel Gordon, H. M. Nineteenth 
Light Cavalry. 

George Earle, H. M. Nineteenth 
Light Cavalry. 

Adelaide Gordon, wife of Nigel 
Gordon.’’ 

This announcement took every one a little by sur- 
prise. A few were really gratified; the majority 
perceived that it silenced gossip of a very enthrall- 
ing kind. No one could now deplore or insinuate, 
or express sorrow or astonishment. And, as re- 
joicing with one’s friends and neighbors soon be- 
comes a very monotonous thing, Katherine Van 
Heemskirk’s fine marriage was tacitly dropped. 
Only for that one day on which it was publicly 
declared was it an absorbing topic. The whole 
issue of the “Gazette” was quickly bought; and 
then people, having seen the fact with their own 
eyes, felt a sudden satiety of the whole affair. 

On some few it had a more particular influence. 
Hyde’s brother officers held high festival to their 
comrade’s success. To every bumper they read the 
notice aloud, as a toast, and gave a kind of national 
triumph to what was a purely personal affair. Joris 
read it with dim eyes, and then lit his long Gouda 
pipe and sat smoking with an air of inexpressible 
loneliness. Lysbet read it, and then put the paper 


222 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


carefully away among the silks and sating in her 
bottom drawer. Joanna read it, and then immedi- 
ately bought a dozen copies and sent them to the 
relatives of Batavius in Dordrecht, Holland. Neil 
Semple read and reread it. It seemed to have a 
fascination for him ; and for more than an hour he 
sat musing, with his eyes fixed upon the fateful 
words. Then he rose and went to the hearth. 
There were a few sticks of wood burning upon it, 
but they had fallen apart. He put them together, 
and, tearing out the notice, he laid it upon them. 
It meant much more to Neil than the destruction 
of a scrap of paper, and he stood watching it, long 
after it had become a film of grayish ash. 

Bram would not read it at all. He was too full 
of shame and trouble at the event ; and the moments 
went as if they moved on lead. But the unhappy 
day wore away to its evening ; and after tea he gath- 
ered a great nosegay of narcissus, and went to Isaac 
Cohen’s. He did not “hang about the steps,” as 
Joris in his temper had said. Miriam was not one 
of those girls who sit in the door to be gazed at by 
every passing man. He went into the store, and she 
seemed to know his footstep. He had no need to 
speak: she came at once from the mystery behind 
the crowded place into the clearer light. Plain and 
dark were her garments, and Bram would have been 
unable to describe her dress ; but it was as fitting to 
her as are the green leaves of the rose tree to the 
rose. 

Their acquaintance had evidently advanced since 


POPULAR OPINION 


that anxious evening when she had urged upon 
Bram the intelligence of the duel between Hyde and 
Neil Semple ; for Bram gave her the flowers without 
embarrassment, and she buried her sweet face in 
their sweet petals, and then lifted it with a smile at 
once grateful and confidential. Then they began to 
talk of Katherine. ‘‘She was so beautiful and so 
kind,” said Miriam: “just a week since she passed 
here, with some violets in her hand; and, when she 
saw me, she ran up the steps, and said: ‘I have 
brought them for you and she clasped my fingers, 
and looked so pleasantly in my face. If I had a 
sister, Bram, I think she would smile at me in the 
same way.” 

“Very grateful to you was Katherine. All you 
did about the duel, I told her. She knows her hus- 
band had not been alive to-day but for you. Oh, 
Miriam, if you had not spoken!” 

“I should have had the stain of blood on my con- 
science. I did right to speak. My grandfather said 
to me: ‘You did quite right, my dear.’ ” 

Then Bram told her all the little things that had 
grieved him, and they talked as dear companions 
might talk ; only, beneath all the common words of 
daily life there was some subtile sweetness that 
made their voices low, and their glances shy and 
tremulous. 

It was not more than an hour ere Cohen came 
home. He looked quickly at the young people, and 
then stood by Bram, and began to talk courteously 
of passing events. Miriam leaned, listen-ing, against 


224 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

a magnificent “apostle’s cabinet” in black oak — one 
one of those famous ones made in Nuremberg in the 
fifteenth century, with locks and hinges of ham- 
mered-steel work, and finely chased handles of the 
same material. Against its carved and pillared back- 
ground, her dark drapery fell in almost unnoticed 
grace; but her fair face and small hands, with the 
mass of white narcissus in them, had a singular and 
alluring beauty. She affected Bram as something 
sweetly supernatural might have done. It was an 
effort for him to answer Cohen: he felt as if it 
would be impossible for him to go away. 

But the clock struck the hour, and the shop-boy 
began to put up the shutters ; and the old man walked 
to the door, taking Bram with him. Then Miriam, 
smiling her farewell, passed like a shadow into the 
darker shadows beyond ; and Bram went home, 
wondering to find that she had cast out of his heart, 
hatred, malice, fretful worry, and all uncharitable- 
ness. How could he blend them with thoughts of 
her? and how could he forget the slim, dark-robed 
figure, or the lovely face against the old black kas, 
crowned with its twelve sombre figures, or the white 
slender hands holding the white fragrant flowers? 


CHAPTER XI 


AT HYDE MANOR, AND BRAM AND MIRIAM 

“Each man’s homestead is his golden milestone, 

Is the central point from which he measures 
Every distance 

Through the gateways of the world around him.” 

“And if we will one Guide obey. 

The dreariest path, the darkest way. 

Shall issue out in heavenly day.” 

HERE are certain months in every life which 



1 seem to be full of fate, good or evil, for that 
life; and May was Katherine Hyde’s luck month. 
It was on a May afternoon that Hyde had asked 
her love; it was on a May night she fled with him 
through the gray shadows of the misty river. Since 
then a year had gone by, and it was May once more 
— an English May, full of the magic of the month; 
clear skies and young foliage, and birds’ songs, the 
cool, woody smell of wall-flowers, and the ethereal 
perfume of lilies. 

In Hyde Manor House, there was that stir of 
preparation which indicates a departure. The house 
was beforetime; it had the air of early rising; the 
atmosphere of yesterday had not been dismissed, 
but lingered around, and gave the idea of haste and 
change, and departure from regular custom. It 


> 


226 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


was, indeed, an hour before the usual breakfast- 
time ; but Hyde and Katherine were taking a hasty 
meal together. Hyde was in full uniform, his 
sword at his side, his cavalry cap and cloak on a 
chair near him ; and up and down the graveled walk 
before the main entrance, a groom was leading his 
horse. 

‘‘I must see what is the matter with Mephisto,’^ 
said Hyde. ‘‘How he is snorting and pawing ! And 
if Park loses control of him, I shall be greatly incon- 
venienced for both horse and time.” 

The remark was partially the excuse of a man 
who feels that he must go, and who tries to say the 
hard words in less ominous form. They both rose 
together — Katherine bravely smiling away tears, 
and looking exceedingly lovely in her blue morning- 
gown trimmed with frillings of thread lace; and 
Hyde, gallant and tender, but still with the air of 
a man not averse to go back to life’s real duty. He 
took Katherine in his arms, kissed away her tears, 
made her many a loving promise, and then, lifting 
his cap and cloak, left the room. The servants 
were lingering around to get his last word, and 
to wish him “God-speed,” and for a few minutes 
he stood talking to his groom, and soothing Meph- 
isto. Evidently he had quite recovered his health 
and strength; for he sprang very easily into the 
saddle, and, gathering the reins in his hand, kept 
the restive animal in perfect control. 

A moment he stood thus, the very ideal of a fc^ar- 
less, chivalrous, handsome soldier ; the next, his face 


AT HYDE MANOR 


227 

softened to almost womanly tenderness : for he saw 
Katherine coming hastily through the dim hall, and 
into the clear sunshine, and in her arms was his lit- 
tle son. She came fearlessly to his side, and lifted 
the sleeping child to him. He stooped and kissed it, 
and then kissed again the beautiful mother ; and call- 
ing happily backward : “Good-by, my love ; God keep 
you, love; good-by,’’ he gave Mephisto his own 
wild will, and was soon lost to sight among the 
trees of the park. 

Katherine stood with her child in her arms, lis- 
tening to the ever fainter beat of Mephisto’s hoofs. 
Her husband had gone back to duty, his furlough 
had expired, their long, leisurely honeymoon was 
over. But she was neither fearful nor unhappy. 
Hyde’s friends had procured his exchange into a 
court regiment. He was only going to London, 
and he was still her lover. She looked forward 
with clear eyes as she said gratefully to herself : 
“So happy am I! So good is my husband! So 
dear is my child ! So fair and sweet is my home 1” 

And though to many minds Hyde Manor might 
seem neither fair nor sweet, Katherine really liked 
it. Perhaps she had some inherited taste for low- 
lands, with their shimmer of water and patches of 
green; or perhaps the gentle beauty of the land- 
scape specially fitted her temperament. But, at any 
rate, the wide brown stretches, dotted with lonely 
windmills and low farmhouses, pleased her. So 
also did the marshes, fringed with yellow and purple 
flags ; and the great ditches, white with water-lilies ; 


228 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


and the high belts of natural turf ; and the summer 
sunshine, which over this level land had a white 
brilliancy to which other sunshine seemed shadow. 
Hyde had never before found the country endurable, 
except during the season when the marshes were 
full of birds; .or when, at the Christmas holidays, 
the ice was firm as marble, and smooth as glass, and 
the wind blowing fair from behind. Then he had 
liked well a race with the famous fen-skaters. 

The Manor House was neither handsome nor pic- 
turesque; though its dark-red bricks made telling 
contrasts among the ivy, and the few large trees 
surrounding it. It contained a great number of 
rooms, but none were of large proportions. The 
ceilings were low, and often crossed with heavy oak 
beams; while the floors, though of polished oak, 
were very uneven. Hyde had refurnished a few of 
the rooms; and the showy paperings and chintzes, 
the fine satin and gilding, looked oddly at variance 
with the black oak wainscots, the Elizabethan fire- 
places, and the other internal decorations. 

Katherine, however, had no sense of any incon- 
gruity. She was charmed with her home, from its 
big garrets to the great wine-bins in its underground 
cellars; and while Hyde wandered about the fens 
with his fishing-rod or gun, or went into the little 
town of Hyde to meet over a market dinner the 
neighboring squires, she was busy arranging every 
room with that scrupulous nicety and cleanliness 
which had been not only an important part of her 
education, but was also a fundamental trait of her 


AT HYDE MANOR 


229 


character. Indeed, no Dutch wife ever had the 
netheid, or passion for order and cleanliness, in 
greater perfection than Katherine. She might al- 
most have come from Wormeldingen, “where the 
homes are washed and waxed, and the streets 
brushed and dusted till not a straw lies about, and 
the trees have a combed and brushed appearance, 
and do not dare to grow a leaf out of its place.'' 
So, then, the putting in order of this large house, 
with all its miscellaneous, uncared-for furniture, 
gave her a genuine pleasure. 

Always pretty and sweet as a flower, always beau- 
tifully dressed, she yet directed, personally, her 
little force of servants, until room after room be- 
came a thing of beauty. It was her employment 
during those days on which Hyde was fishing or 
shooting ; and it was not until the whole house was 
in exquisite condition that Katherine took him 
through his renovated dwelling. He was delighted, 
and not too selfish and indifferent to express his 
wonder and pleasure. 

“Faith, Kate," he said, “you have made me a 
home out of an old lumber-house! I thought of 
taking you to London with me, but, upon my word, 
we had better stay at Hyde and beautify the place. 
I can run down whenever it is possible to get a few 
days off." 

This idea gained gradually on both, and articles 
of luxury and adornment were occasionally added 
to the better rooms. The garden next fell under 
Katherine's care. ‘Tn sweet neglect," it no longer 


230 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

flaunted its beauties. Roses and stocks and tiger- 
lilies learned what boundaries of box meant; and 
if flowers have any sense of territorial rights, 
Katherine’s must have found they were respected. 
Encroaching vines were securely confined within 
their proper limits, and grass that wandered into 
the gravel paths sought for itself a merciless 
destruction. 

All such reforms, if they are not offensive, are 
stimulating and progressive. The stables, kennels, 
and park, as well as the land belonging to the manor, 
became of sudden interest to Hyde. He surprised 
his lawyer by asking after it, and by giving orders 
that in future the hay cut in the meadows should 
be cut for the Hyde stables. Every small wrong 
which he investigated and redressed increased his 
sense of responsibility; and the birth of his son made 
him begin to plan for the future in a way which 
brought not only great pleasure to Katherine, but 
also a comfortable self-satisfaction to his own heart. 

Yet, even with all these favorable conditions, 
Katherine would not have been happy had the es- 
trangement between herself and her parents con- 
tinued a bitter or a silent one. She did not suppose 
they would answer the letter she had sent by the 
fisherman Hudde; she was prepared to ask, and to 
wait, for pardon and for a regift of that precious 
love which she had apparently slighted for a newer 
and as yet untested one. So, immediately after her 
arrival at Jamaica, Katherine wrote to her mother; 
and, without waiting for replies, she continued her 


AT HYDE MANOR 


231 

letters regularly from Hyde. They were in a spirit 
of the sweetest and frankest confidence. She made 
her familiar with all her household plans and wifely 
cares; as room by room in the old manor was fin- 
ished, she described it. She asked her advice with 
all the faith of a child and the love of a daughter; 
and she sent through her those sweet messages of 
affection to her father, which she feared a little to 
offer without her mother's mediation. 

But when she had a son, and when Hyde agreed 
to the boy being named George, she wrote a letter 
to him. Joris found it one April morning on his 
desk, and it happened to come in a happy hour. He 
had been working in his garden, and every plant 
and flower had brought his Katherine pleasantly 
back to his memory. All the walks were haunted 
by her image. The fresh breeze of the river was 
full of her voice and her clear laughter. The re- 
turning birds, chattering in the trees above him, 
seemed to ask, Where, then, is the little one gone?" 

Her letter, full of love, starred all through with 
pet words, and wisely reminding him more of their 
own past happiness than enlarging on her present 
joy, made his heart melt. He could do no busi- 
ness that day. He felt that he must go home and 
tell Lysbet : only the mother could fully understand 
and share his joy. He found her cleaning the 
‘‘Guelderland cup" — the very cup Mrs. Gordon had 
found Katherine cleaning when she brought the first 
love message, and took back that fateful token, her 
bow of orange ribbon. At that moment, Lysbet’ s 


232 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

thoughts were entirely with Katherine. She was 
wondering whether Joris and herself might not some 
day cross the ocean to see their child. When she 
heard her husband’s step at that early hour, she 
put down the cup in fear, and stood watching the 
door for his approach. The first glimpse of his face 
told her that he was no messenger of sorrow. He 
gave her the letter with a smile, and then walked 
up and down while she read it. 

“Well, Joris, a beautiful letter this is. And thou 
has a grandson of thy own name — a little Joris. 
Oh, how I long to see him! I hope that he will 
grow like thee — so big and handsome as thou art, 
and also with thy good heart. Oh, the little Joris ! 
Would God he was here !” 

The face of Joris was happy, and his eyes shin- 
ing; but he had not yet much to say. He walked 
about for an hour, and listened to Lysbet, who, as 
she polished her silver, retold him all that Katherine 
hai said of her husband’s love, and of his goodness 
to her. With great attention he listened to her de- 
scription of the renovated house and garden, and of 
Hyde s purposes with regard to the estate. Then he 
sat down and smoked his pipe, and after dinner he 
returned to his pipe and his meditation. Lysbet 
wondered what he was considering, and hoped that 
it might be a letter of full forgiveness for her be- 
loved Katherine. 

At last he rose and went into the garden; and 
she watched him wander from bed to bed, and stand 
looking down at the green shoots of the early flow- 


AT HYDE MANOR 


233 


ers, and the lovely inverted urns of the brave snow- 
drops. To the river and back again, several times 
he walked ; but about three o’clock he came into the 
house with a firm, quick step, and, not finding Lys- 
bet in the sitting-room, called her cheerily. She was 
in their room upstairs, and he went to her. 

“Lysbet, thinking I have been — thinking of 
Katherine’s marriage. Better than I expected, it 
has turned out.” 

“I think that Katherine has made a good mar- 
riage — the best marriage of all the children.” 

‘‘Dost thou believe that her husband is so kind 
and so prudent as she says?” 

“No doubt I have.” 

“See, then : I will send Katherine her portion. 
Cohen will give me the order on Secor’s Bank in 
Threadneedle Street. It is for her and her children. 
Can I trust them with it?” 

“Katherine is no waster, and full of nobleness 
is her husband. Write thou to him, and put it in 
his charge for Katherine and her children. And 
tell him in his honor thou trust entirely; and I think 
that he will do in all things right. Nothing has he 
asked of thee.” 

“To the devil he sent my dirty guilders, made in 
dirty trade. I have not forgot.” 

“Joris, the Devil speaks for a man in a passion. 
Keep no such words in thy memory.” 

“Lysbet?” 

“Wliat then, Joris?” 

“The drinking-cup of silver, which my father 


234 the bow of orange RIBBON 

gave us at our marriage — the great silver one that 
has on it the view of Middelburg, and the arms of 
the city. It was given to my great-grandfather 
when he was mayor of Middelburg. His name, also, 
was Joris. To my grandson shall I send it?’’ 

“Oh, my Joris, much pleasure would thou give 
Katherine and me also ! Let the little fellow have 
it. Earl of Dorset and Hyde he may be yet.” 

Joris blushed vividly, but he answered: “Mayor 
of New York he may be yet. That will please me 
best.” 

“Five grandsons hast thou, but this is the first 
Joris. Anna has two sons, but for his dead brothers 
Rysbaack named them. Cornelia has two sons ; but 
for thee they called neither, because Van Dorn’s 
father is called Joris, and with him they are great 
unfriends. And, when Joanna’s son was born, they 
called him Peter, because Batavius hath a rich uncle 
called Peter, who may pay for the name. So, then, 
Katherine’s son is the first of thy grandchildren that 
has thy name. The dear little Joris! He has blue 
eyes too; eyes like thine, she says. Yes, I would 
to him give the Middelburg cup. William New- 
man the jeweler will pack it safely, and by the next 
ship thou can send it to the bankers thou spoke of. 
I will tell Katherine so. But thou, too, write her 
a letter; for little she will think of her fortune or 
of the cup, if thy love thou send not with them.” 

And Joris had done all that he purposed, and 
done it without one grudging thought or doubting 
word. The cup went, full of good-will. The money 


AT HYDE MANOR 


235 

was given as Katherine’s right, and was hampered 
with no restrictions but the wishes of Joris, left to 
the honor of Hyde. And Hyde was not indifferent 
to such noble trust. He fully determined to deserve 
it. As for Katherine, she desired no greater pleas- 
ure than to emphasize her reliance in her husband 
by leaving the money absolutely at his discretion. 
In fact, she felt a far greater interest in the Middel- 
burg cup. It had always been an object of her ad- 
miration and desire. She believed her son would 
be proud to point it out and say, “It came from my 
mother’s ancestor, who was mayor of Middelburg, 
when that famous city ruled in the East India trade, 
and compelled all vessels with spice and wines and 
oils to come to the crane of Middelburg, there to 
be verified and gaged.” She longed to receive this 
gift. She had resolved to put it between the baby 
fingers of little Joris as soon as it arrived. “A 
grand christening-cup it will be,” she exclaimed, 
with child-like enthusiasm; and Hyde kissed her, 
and promised to send it at once by a trusty 
messenger. 

He was a little amused by her enthusiasm. The 
Hydes had much plate, old and new, and they were 
proud of its beauty and excellence, and well aware 
of its worth; but they were not able to judge of the 
value of flagons and cups and servers gathered 
slowly through many generations, every one repre- 
senting some human drama of love or suffering, 
or some deed of national significance. Nearly all 
of Joris Van Heemskirk’s silver was “storied”: it 


236 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

was the materialization of honor and patriotism, of 
self-denial or charity; and the silversmith’s and en- 
graver’s work was the least part of the Van Heems- 
kirk pride in it. 

As Joris sat smoking that night, he thought over 
his proposal; and then for the first time it struck 
him that the Middelburg cup might have a peculiar 
significance and value to Bram. It cost him an ef- 
fort to put his vague suspicions into words, because 
by doing so he seemed to give shape and substance 
to shadows ; but when Lysbet sat down with a little 
sigh of content beside him, and said, ‘‘A happy night 
is this to us, Joris,” he answered, ‘‘God is good; 
always better to us than we trust Him for. I want 
to say now what I have been considering the last 
hour — some other cup we will send to the little Joris, 
for I think Bram will like to have the Middelburg 
cup best of all.” 

“Always Bram has been promised the Guelderland 
cup and the server that goes with it.” 

“That is the truth ; but I will tell you something, 
Lysbet. The Middelburg cup was given by the Jews 
of Middelburg to my ancestor because great favors 
and protection he gave them when he was mayor of 
the city. Bram is very often with Miriam Cohen, 
and—” 

Then Joris stopped, and Lysbet waited anxiously 
for him to finish the sentence; but he only pufYed, 
puffed, and looked thoughtfully at the bowl of his 
pipe. 

“What mean you, Joris?” 


AT HYDF MANOR 


237 


‘‘I think that he loves her/’ 

‘‘Well?” 

“That he would like to marry her.” 

“Many things that are impossible man would 
like to do: that is most impossible of all.” 

“You think so?” 

“I am sure of it.” 

“Not impossible was it for Katherine to marry 
one not of her own race.” 

“In my mind it is not race so much as faith. 
Far more than race, faith claims.” 

“Hyde is a Lutheran.” 

“A Lutheran may also be a Christian, I hope, 
Joris.” 

“I judge no man, Lysbet. I have known Jews 
that were better Christians than some baptized in 
the name of Christ and John Calvin — Jews who, 
like the great Jew, loved God, and did to their fel- 
low creatures as they wished to be done by. And 
if you had ever seen Miriam Cohen, you would not 
make a wonder that Bram loves her.” 

“Is she so fair?” 

“A beautiful face and gracious ways she has. 
Like her, the beloved Rachel must have been, I 
think. Why do you not stand with Bram as you 
stood with Katherine?” 

“Little use it would be, Joris. To give consent 
in this matter would be a sacrifice refused. Be sure 
that Cohen will not listen to Bram ; no, nor to you, 
nor to me, nor to Miriam. If it come to a question 
of race, more proud is the Jew of his race than even 


238 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

the Englishman or the Dutchman. If it come to a 
question of faith, if all the other faiths in the world 
die out, the Jew will hold to his own. Say to Bram, 
‘I am willing,' and Cohen will say to him, ‘Never, 
never will I consent.' If you keep the ‘Jew’s cup' 
for Bram and Miriam, always you will keep it; yes, 
and they that live after you, too.” 

Why it is that certain trains of thought and feel- 
ing move to their end at the same hour, though that 
end affect a variety of persons, no one has yet 
explained. But there are undoubtedly currents of 
sympathy of whose nature and movements we are 
profoundly ignorant. Thus how often we think 
of an event just before some decisive action relat- 
ing to it is made known to us! How often do we 
recall some friend just as we are about to see or 
hear from him ! How often do we remember some- 
thing that ought to be done, just at the last mo- 
ment its successful accomplishment was possible 
to us! 

And at the very hour Joris and Lysbet were 
discussing the position of their son with regard to 
Miriam Cohen, the question was being definitely 
settled at another point. For Joris was not the 
only person who had observed Bram's devotion to 
the beautiful Jewess. Cohen had watched him with 
close and cautious jealousy for many months; but 
he was far too wise to stimulate love by opposition, 
and he did not believe in half measures. When he 
defined Miriam’s duty to her, he meant it to be in 
such shape as precluded argument or uncertainty; 


AT HYDE MANOR 


239 


and for this purpose delay was necessary. Much 
correspondence with England had to take place, 
and the mails were then irregular. But it happened, 
that, after some months of negotiation, a final and 
satisfactory letter had come to him by the same 
post as brought Katherine’s letter to Joris Van 
Heemskirk. 

He read its contents with a sad satisfaction, and 
then locked it away until the evening hours secured 
him from business interruption. Then he went to his 
grandchild. He found her sitting quietly among the 
cushions of a low couch. It seemed as if Miriam’s 
thoughts were generally sufficient for her pleasure, 
for she was rarely busy. She had always time to 
sit and talk, or to sit and be silent. And Cohen 
liked best to see her thus — beautiful and calm, with 
small hands dropped or folded, and eyes half shut, 
and mouth closed, but ready to smile and dimple if 
he decided to speak to her. 

She looked so pretty and happy and careless, that 
for some time he did not like to break the spell of 
her restful beauty. Nor did he until his pipe was 
quite finished, and he had looked carefully over the 
notes in his ‘^day-book.” Then he said in slow, even 
tones, ‘‘My child, listen to me. This summer my 
young kinsman Judah Belasco will come here. He 
comes to marry you. You will be a happy wife, my 
dear. He has moneys, and he has the power to 
make moneys ; and he is a good young man. I have 
been cautious concerning that, my dear.” 

There was a long pause. He did not hurry her, 


240 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

but sat patiently Vvciicing, with his eyes fixed upon 
the booh in his hand. 

' l do not want to marry, grandfather. I am so 
young. I do not know Judah Belasco.” 

‘^You shall have time, my dear. It is part of the 
agreement that he shall now live in New York. 
He is a rich young man, my dear. He is of the 
Sephardim, as you are too, my dear. You must 
marry in your own caste; for we are of unmixed 
blood, faithful children of the tribe of Judah. All 
of our brethren here are Ashkenasem: therefore, I 
have had no rest until I got a husband fit for you, 
my dear. This was my duty, though I brought 
him from the end of the earth. It has cost me 
moneys, but I gave cheerfully. The thing is fin- 
ished now, when you are ready. But you shall not 
be hurried, my dear.” 

‘Tather, I have been a good daughter. Do not 
make me leave you.” 

‘‘You have been good, and you will be good 
always. What is the command?” 

‘'Honor thy father and thy mother.” 

“And the promise?” 

“Then long shall be thy days on the earth.” 

“And the vow you made, Miriam?” 

“That I would never disobey or deceive you.” 

“Whom have you vowed to?” 

“The God of Israel.” 

“Will you lie unto him ?” 

“I would give my life first.” 

“Now is the time to fulfil your vow. Put 


AT HYDE MANOR 


241 


from your heart or fancy any other young man. 
Have you not thought of our neighbor, Bram Van 
Heemskirk?’’ 

'‘He is good; he is handsome. I fear he loves 
me. 

"You know not anything. If you choose a hus- 
band, or even a shoe, by their appearance, both may 
pinch you, my dear. Judah is of good stock. Of a 
good tree you may expect good ^uit.’’ 

"Bram Van Heemskirk is also the son of a good 
father. Many times you have said it.” 

"Yes, I have said it. But Bram is not of our 
people. And if our law forbid us to sow different 
seeds at the same time in the same ground, or to 
graft one kind of fruit tree on the stock of another, 
shall we dare to mingle ourselves with people alien 
in race and faith, and speech and customs? My 
dear, will you take your own way, or will you obey 
the word of the Lord?” 

"My way can not stand before His way.” 

"It is a hard thing for you, my dear. Your way 
is sweet to you. Offer it as a sacrifice ; bind the sac- 
rifice, even with cords, to the altar, if it be neces- 
sary. I mean, say to Bram Van Heemskirk words 
that you can not unsay. Then there will be only one 
sorrow. It is hope and fear, and fear and hope, 
that make the heart sick. Be kind, and slay hope at 
once, my dear.” 

"If Judah had been my own choice, father — ” 

^'Choice? My dear, when did you get wisdom? 
Do not parents choose for their children their food, 


242 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

dress, friends, and teachers? What folly to do 
these things, and then leave them in the most seri- 
ous question of life to their own wisdom, or want 
of wisdom! Choice! Remember Van Heemskirk’s 
daughter, and the sin and suffering her own choice 
caused.” 

‘‘I think it was not her fault if two men quar- 
reled and fought about her.” 

‘‘She was not wholly innocent. Miriam, make 
me not to remember the past. My eyes are old 
now : they should not weep any more. I have drunk 
my cup of sorrow to the lees. Oh, Miriam, Miriam, 
do not fill it again !” 

“God forbid ! My father, I will keep the promise 
that I made you. I will do all that you wish.” 

Cohen bowed his head solemnly, and remained 
for some minutes afterward motionless. His eyes 
were closed, his face was as still as a painted 
face. 

Whether he was praying or remembering, 
Miriam knew not. But solitude is the first cry of 
the wounded heart, and she went away into it. She 
was like a child that had been smitten, and whom 
there was none to comfort. But she never thought 
of disputing her grandfather’s word, or of oppos- 
ing his will. Often before he had been obliged to 
give her some bitter cup, or some disappointment; 
but her good had always been the end in view. She 
had perfect faith in his love and wisdom. But she 
suffered very much; though she bore it with that 
uncomplaining patience which is so characteristic 


AT HYDE MANOR 


243 

of the child heart — a patience pathetic in its resig- 
nation, and sublime in its obedience. 

And it was during this hour of trial to Miriam 
that Joris was talking to Lysbet of her. It did him 
good to put his fears into words, for Lysbefs as- 
surances were comfortable; and as it had been a 
day full of feeling, he was weary, and went earlier 
to his room than usual. On the contrary, Lysbet 
was very wakeful. She carried her sewing to the 
candle, and sat down for an hour's work. The 
house was oppressively still ; and she could not help 
remembering the days when it had been so different 
— when Anna and Cornelia had been marriageable 
women, and Joanna and Katherine growing girls. 
All of them had now gone away from her. Only 
Bram was left, and she thought of him with great 
anxiety. Such a marriage as his father had hinted 
at filled her with alarm. She could neither con- 
quer her prejudices nor put away her fears; and 
she tormented herself with imagining, in the event 
of such a misfortune, all the disagreeable and dis- 
approving things the members of the Middle Kirk 
would have to say. 

In the midst of her reflections, Bram returned. 
She had not expected him so early, but the sound 
of his feet was pleasant. He came in slowly; and, 
after some pottering, irritating delays, he pushed 
his father's chair back from the light, and with a 
heavy sigh sat down in it. 

‘Why sigh you so heavy, Bram? Every sigh 
still lower sinks the heart." 


244 the bow of orange RIBBON 

**A light heart I shall never have again, mother.” 

“You talk some foolishness. A young man like 
you! A quarrel with your sweetheart, is it? Well, 
it will be over as quick as a rainy day. Then the 
sunshine again.” 

“For me there is no hope like that. So quiet 
and shy was my love.” 

“Oh, indeed ! Of all the coquettes, the quiet, shy 
ones are the worst.” 

“No coquette is Miriam Cohen. My love life is 
at the end, mother.” 

“When began it, Bram ?” 

“It was at the time of the duel. I loved her from 
the first moment. Oh, mother, mother !” 

“Does she not love you, Bram?” 

“I think so: many sweet hours we have had 
together. My heart was full of hope.” 

“Her faith, Bram, should have kept you pru- 
dent.” 

“ Tn what church do you pray?’ Love asks not 
such a question. And, as for her race, I thought 
a daughter of Israel is the beloved of all the 
daughters of God. A blessing to my house she 
will bring.” 

“That is not what the world says, Bram. No, 
my son. It is thus, and like it: that God is angry 
with his people, and for that he has scattered them 
through all the nations of the earth.” 

“Such folly is that! To colonize, to ‘take pos- 
session’ of the whole earth, is what the men of 
Israel have always intended. Long before the Christ 


AT HYDE MANOR 


245 


was born in Bethlehem, the Jews were scattered 
throughout every known country. I will say that 
to the dominie. It the truth, and he can not 
deny it.'’ 

‘‘But surely God is angry with them.” 

“I see it not. If once he was angry, long ago 
he has forgiven His people. ‘To the third and 
fourth generation' only is His anger. His own 
limit that is. Who have such blessings ? The gold 
and the wine and the fruit of all lands are theirs. 
Their increase comes when all others' fail. God is 
not angry with them. The light of His smile is 
on the face of Miriam. He teaches her father how 
to traffic and to prosper. Do not the Holy Scrip- 
tures say that the blessing, not the anger, of the 
Lord maketh rich ?'' 

“Well, then, my son, all this is little to the pur- 
pose if she will not have thee for her husband. But 
be not easy to lose thy heart. Try once more.'' 

“Useless it would be. Miriam is not one of those 
who say ‘no' and then ‘yes.' '' 

“Nearly two years you have known her. That 
was long to keep you in hope and doubt. I think 
she is a coquette.'' 

“You know her not, mother. Very few words 
of love have I dared to say. We have been friends. 
I was happy to stand in the store and talk to Cohen, 
and watch her. A glance from her eyes, a pleasant 
word, was enough. I feared to lose all by asking 
too much.'' 

“Then> why 'did you ask her to-night? It would 


246 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

have been better had your father spoken first to 
Mr. Cohen.’’ 

“I did not ask Miriam to-night. She spared me 
all she could. She was in the store as I passed, 
and I went in. This is what she said to me : ‘Bram, 
dear Bram, I fear that you begin to love me, because 
I think of you very often. And my grandfather 
has just told me that I am promised to Judah Be- 
lasco of London. In the summer he will come here, 
and I shall marry him.’ I wish, mother, you could 
have seen her leaning against the black kas, for 
between it and her black dress, her face was white 
as death, and beautiful and pitiful as an angel’s.” 

“What said you then?” 

“Oh, I scarce know! But I told her how dearly 
I loved her, and I asked her to be my wife.” 

“And she said what to thee?” 

“ ‘My father I must obey. Though he told me 
to slay myself, I must obey him. By the God of 
Israel, I have promised it often.’ ” 

“Was that all, Bram?” 

“I asked her again and again. I said, ‘Only in 
this one thing, Miriam, and all our lives after it 
we will give to him.’ But she answered, ‘Obedi- 
ence is better than sacrifice, Bram. That is what 
our law teaches. Though I could give my father 
the wealth and the power of King Solomon, it would 
be worth less than my obedience.’ And for all my 
pleading, at the last it was the same, ‘I can not do 
wrong; for many right deeds will not undo one 
wrong one.’ So she gave me her hands, and I kissed 


AT HYDE MANOR 


247 

them — my first and last kiss — and I bade her fare- 
well ; for my hope is over — I know that.” 

‘‘She is a good girl. I wish that you had won 
her, Bram.” And Lysbet put down her work and 
went to her son's side; and with a great sob Bram 
laid his head against her breast. 

“As one whom his mother comforteth!” Oh, 
tender and wonderful consolation ! It is the mother 
that turns the bitter waters of life into wine. Bram 
talked his sorrow over to his mother’s love and pity 
and sympathy; and when she parted with him, long 
after the midnight, she said cheerfully : “Thou hast 
a brave soul, mijn soon, mijn Bram; and this trouble 
is not all for thy loss and grief. A sweet memory 
will this beautiful Miriam be as long as thou livest; 
and to have loved well a good woman, will make 
thee always a better man for it.” 


CHAPTER XII 


LONDON LIFE 

“The town’s a golden, but a fatal, circle. 

Upon whose magic skirts a thousand devils 
In crystal forms sit tempting Innocence, 

And beckoning Virtue from its centre.” 

— Lee. 

“Where Vice not only has usurped the place. 

But the reward and even the name, of Virtue.” 

T he trusting, generous letter which Joris had 
written to his son-in-law arrived a few days 
before Hyde’s departure for London. With every 
decent show of pleasure and gratitude, he said : ‘Tt 
is an unexpected piece of good fortune, Katherine, 
and the interest of five thousand pounds will keep 
Hyde Manor up in a fine style. As for the princi- 
pal, we will leave it at Secor’s until it can be invested 
in land. What say you ?” 

Katherine was quite satisfied; for, though nat- 
urally careful of all put under her own hands, she 
was at heart very far from being either selfish 
or mercenary. In fact, the silver cup was at that 
hour of more real interest to her. It would be a 
part of her old home in her new home. It was con- 
nected with her life memories, and it made a por- 
tion of her future hopes and dreams. There was 
also something more tangible about it than about 
24I 


LONDON LIFE 


249 

the bit of paper certifying to five thousand pounds 
in her name at Secor’s Bank. 

But Hyde knew well the importance of Kath- 
erine’s fortune. It enabled him to face his relatives 
and friends on a very much better :^ooting than he 
had anticipated. He was quite aware, too, that the 
simple fact was all that society needed. He ex- 
pected to hear in a few days that the five thousand 
pounds had become fifty thousand pounds; for he 
knew that rumor, when on the boast, would mag- 
nify any kind of gossip, favorable or unfavorable. 
So he was no longer averse to meeting his former 
companions : even to them, a rich wife would excuse 
matrimony. And, besides, Hyde was one of those 
men who regard money in the bank as a kind of 
good conscience : he really felt morally five thousand 
pounds the better. Full of hope and happiness, he 
would have gone at a pace to suit his mood; but 
English roads at that date were left very much to 
nature and to weather, and the Norfolk clay in 
springtime was so deep and heavy that it was not 
until the third day after leaving that he was able to 
report for duty. 

His first social visit was paid to his maternal 
grandmother, the dowager Lady Capel. She was 
not a nice old woman; in fact, she was a very spite- 
ful, ill-hearted, ill-tempered old woman, and Hyde 
had always had a certain fear of her. When he 
landed in London with his wife. Lady Capel had for- 
tunately been at Bath ; and he had then escaped the 
duty of presenting Katherine to her. But she was 


250 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

now at her mansion in Berkeley Square, and her 
claims upon his attention could not be postponed; 
and, as she had neither eyes nor ears in the even- 
ings for anything but loo or whist, Hyde knew that 
a conciliatory visit would have to be made in the 
early part of the day. 

He found her in the most careless dishabille, wig- 
less and unpainted, and rolled up comfortably in 
an old wadded morning-gown that had seen years 
of snuffy service. But she had outlived her vanity. 
Hyde had chosen the very hour in which sh^ had 
nothing whatever to amuse her, and he was a very 
welcome interruption. And, upon the whole, she 
liked her grandson. She had paid his gambling- 
debts twice, she had taken the greatest interest in 
his various duels, and sided passionately with him 
in one abortive love-affair. 

‘‘Dick is no milksop,” she would say approvingly, 
when told of any of his escapades ; “faith, he has my 
spirit exactly! I have a great deal more temper 
than any one would believe me capable of” — which 
was not the truth, for there were few people who 
really knew her ladyship who ever felt inclined to 
doubt her capabilities in that direction. 

So she heard the rattle of Hyde's sword, and the 
clatter of his feet on the polished stairs, with a 
good deal of satisfaction. “I have him here, and 
I shall do my best to keep him here,” she thought. 
“Why should a proper young fellow like Dick bury 
himself alive in the fens for a Dutchwoman? In 
short, she has had enough, and too much, of him. 


LONDON LIFE 


25^ 

His grandmother has a prior claim, I hope, and then 
Arabella Suffolk will help me. I foresee mischief 
and amusement. — Well, Dick, you rascal, so you 
have had to leave America ! I expected it. Oh, sir, 
I have heard all about you from Adelaide! You 
are not to be trusted, either among men or women. 
And pray where is the wife you made such a fracas 
about. Is she in London with you?’’ 

‘‘No, madam: she preferred to, remain at Hyde, 
and I have no happiness beyond her desire.” 

“Here’s flame ! Here’s constancy ! And you 
have been married a whole year 1 I am struck with 
admiration.” 

“A whole year — a year of divine happiness, I as- 
sure you.” 

“Lord, sir! You will be the laughing-stock of 
the town if you talk in such fashion. They will 
have you in the playhouses. Pray let us forget our 
domestic joys a little. I hear, however, that your 
divinity is rich.” 

“She is not poor; though if — ” 

“Though if she had been a beggar-girl you 
would have married her, rags and all. Swear to 
that, Dick, especially when she brings you fifty 
thousand pounds. I’m very much obliged to her: 
you can hardly, for shame, put your fingers in my 
poor purse now, sir. And you can make a good 
figure in the world; and as your cousin Arabella 
Suffolk is staying with me, you will be the pro- 
perest gallant for her when Sir Thomas is at the 
House.” 


252 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

am at yours and cousin Arabella’s service, 
grandmother.” 

‘'Exactly so, captain, only no more quarreling 
and fighting. Learn your catechism, or Dr. Watts, 
or somebody. Remember that we have now a bishop 
in the family. And I am getting old, and want to 
be at peace with the whole world, if you will let 
me.” 

Hyde laughed merrily. “Why, grandmother, 
such advice from you! I don’t trust it. There 
never was a more perfect hater than yourself.” 

“I know, Dick. I used to say : ‘Lord, this person 
is so bad, and that person is so bad, I hate them!’ 
But at last I found out that every one was bad : so 
I hate nobody. One can not take a sword and run 
the whole town through. I have seen some very 
religious people lately; and you will find me very 
serious, and much improved. Come and go as you 
please, Dick: Arabella and you can be perfectly 
happy, I dare say, without minding me.” 

“What is the town doing now?” 

“Oh, balls and dances and weddings and other 
follies! Thank the moon, men and women never 
get weary of these things 1” 

“Then you have not ceased to enjoy them, I 
hope.” 

“I still take my share. Old fools will hobble after 
young ones. I ride a little, and visit a little, and 
have small societies quite to my taste. And I have 
my four kings and aces; that is saying everything. 
I want you to go to all the diversions, Dick; and 


LONDON LIFE 


253 

pray tell me what they say of me behind my back. 
I like to know how much I annoy people.’^ 

“I shall not listen to anything unflattering, I 
assure you.” 

“La, Dick, you can’t fight a rout of women and 
men about your grandmother ! I don’t want you to 
fight, not even if they talk about Arabella and you. 
It is none of their business ; and, as for Sir Thomas 
Suffolk, he hears nothing outside the House, and he 
thinks every Whig in England is watching him — a 
pompous old fool!” 

“Oh, indeed ! I had an idea that he was a very 
merry fellow.” 

“Merry, forsooth! He was never known to 
laugh. There is a report that he once condescended 
to smile, but it was at chess. As for fighting, he 
wouldn’t fight a dog that bit him. He is too patri- 
otic to deprive his country of his own abilities. No, 
Dick : I really do not see any quarrel ahead, unless 
you make it.” 

“I shall think of my Kate when I am passionate, 
and so keep the peace.” 

“ T shall think of my Kate.’ Grant me patience 
with all young husbands. They ought to remain 
in seclusion until the wedding fever is over. By the 
Lord Harry! If Jack Capel had spoken of me in 
such fashion, I would have given him the best of 
reasons for running some pretty fellow through the 
heart. Hush ! Here comes Arabella, and I am anx- 
ious you should make a figure in her eyes.” 

Arabella came in very quietly, but she seemed to 


254 the bow of orange ribbon 

take possession of the room as she entered it. She 
had a bright, piquant face, a tall, graceful form, 
and that air of high fashion which is perhaps quite 
as captivating. 

She was ''delighted to meet cousin Dick. Oh, 
indeed, you have been the town talk !” she said, with 
an air of attention very flattering. "Such a pas- 
sionate encounter was never heard of. The clubs 
were engaged with it for a week. I was told that 
Lord Paget and Sir Henry Dutton came near fight- 
ing it over themselves. Was it really about a bow 
of orange ribbon? And did you wear it over your 
heart? And did the Scotchman cut it off with his 
sword? And did you run him through the next 
moment! There were the most extraordinary ac- 
counts of the affair, and of the little girl with the 
unpronounceable Dutch name who — 

"Who is now my wife. Lady Suffolk.” 

"Certainly, we heard of that also. How roman- 
tic! The secret marriage, the midnight elopement, 
and the man-of-war waiting down the river with a 
broadside ready for any boat that attempted to stop 
you.” 

"Oh, my lady, that is the completest nonsense!” 

"Say 'Cousin Arabella,’ if you please. Has not 
grandmother told you that I, not the Dutch girl, 
ought to have been your wife? It was all arranged 
years ago, sir. You have disappointed grand- 
mother ; as for me, I have consoled myself with Sir 
Thomas.” 

"Yes, indeed,” said Lady Capel; "though Dick 


LONDON LIFE 


^55 

was entirely out of the secret of the match, my son 
Will and I had agreed upon it. I don’t know what 
Will thinks of a younger son like Dick choosing for 
himself.” 

Then Arabella made Hyde a pretty, mocking 
courtesy, and he could not help looking with some 
interest at the woman who might have been his wife. 
The best of men, and the best of husbands, are 
liable to speculate a little, under such circumstances, 
and in fancy to put themselves into a position they 
have probably no wish in reality to fill. She noticed 
his air of consideration; and, with a toss of her 
handsome head, she spread out all her finery. ‘‘You 
see,” she said, “I am dressed so as to make a tear- 
ing show.” She wore a white paduasoy gown, em- 
broidered with gold, and the prettiest high-heeled 
satin slippers, and a headdress of wonderful work- 
man ship. “For I have been at a concert of music, 
Cousin Dick, and heard two overtures of Mr. Han- 
del’s, and a sonata by Corella, done by the very best 
hands.” 

“And, pray, whom did you see there, my dear? 
and what were they talking about ?” 

“Of all people, grandmother, I saw Lady Susan 
Rye and the rest of her sort; and they talked 
of nothing but the coming mask at Ranelagh’s. 
Cousin, I bespeak you for my service. I am going 
as a gipsy, for it will give me the opportunity of 
telling the truth. In my own character, I rarely do 
it : nothing is so impolite. But I have a prodigious 
regard for truth ; and at a mask I give myself the 


256 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

pleasure of saying all the disagreeable things that I 
owe to my acquaintances.” 

Katherine was almost ignored ; and Hyde did not 
feel any desire to bring even her name into such 
a mocking, jeering, perfectly heartless conversation. 
He was content to laugh, and let the hour go past 
in such flim-flams of criticism and persiflage. He 
remembered when he had been one of the units in 
such a life, and he wondered if it were possible that 
he could ever drift back into it. For even as he sat 
there, with the memory of his wife and child in his 
heart, he felt the light charm of Lady Arabella's 
claim upon him, and all the fascination of that gay, 
thoughtless animal life, which appeals so strongly to 
the selfish instincts and appetites of youth. 

He had a plate of roast hare and a goblet of wine, 
and the ladies had chocolate and rout cakes; and 
he ate and drank, and laughed, and enjoyed their 
bright, ill-natured pleasantry, as men enjoy such 
piquant morsels. Thus a couple of hours passed; 
and then it became evident, from the pawing and 
snorting outside, that Mephisto’s patience was quite 
exhaused. Hyde went to the window, and looked 
into the square. His orderly was vainly endeavor- 
ing to soothe the restless animal; and he said: 
‘‘Mephisto will take no excuse, cousin, and I find 
myself obliged to leave you.” But he went away in 
an excitement of hope and gay anticipations; and, 
with a sharp rebuke to the unruly animal, he vaulted 
into the saddle with soldierly grace and rapidity. A 
momentary glance upward showed him Lady Capel 


LONDON LIFE 


2S7 

and Lady Suffolk at the window, watching him ; the 
withered old woman in her soiled wrappings, the 
youthful beauty in all the bravery of her white and 
gold paduasoy. In spite of Mephisto’s opposition, 
he made them a salute ; and then, in a clamor of clat- 
tering hoofs, he dashed through the square. 

“That is the man you ought to have married, 
Arabella,” said Lady Capel, as she watched the 
young face at her side, which had suddenly become 
pensive and dreamy : “you would have been a couple 
for the world to look at.” 

“Oh, indeed, you are mistaken, grandmother! 
Sir Thomas is an admirable husband — blind and 
deaf to all I do, as a good husband ought to be. 
And as for Dick, look at him — bowing and smiling, 
and ready to do me any service, while the girl he 
nearly died for is quite forgotten.” 

“Upon my word, you wrong Dick. His love for 
that woman is beyond everything. I wish it wasn^t. 
What right had she to come into our family, and 
spoil plans and projects made before she was born. 
I should dearly love to play her her own card back. 
And I must say, Arabella, that you seem to care 
very little about your own wrongs.” 

“Oh, I am by no means certified that the woman 
has wronged me ! I don’t think I should have loved 
Dick, in any case.” 

Lady Capel looked in her granddaugh- 
ter’s musing face, and then, with a chuckle, hobbled 
to the bell and rang for her maid. “You are very 
prudent, child, but I am not one that any woman 


258 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

can deceive. I know all the tricks of the sex. Oh, 
heavens ! what a grand thing to be two-and-twenty, 
with a kind husband to manage, and lovers bowing 
and begging at your shoe-ties! Well, well, I had 
my day; and, thank the fools, I did some mischief 
in it! Yes, there were eight duels fought for me; 
and, while Somers and Scrope were wetting their 
swords in the quarrel, I was dancing with Jack 
Capel. Jack told me that night he would make me 
marry him; and, when I slapped his cheek with 
my fan, he took my hands in a rage, and swore 
I should do it that hour. And, faith, he mastered 
me! Your grandfather Capel had a dreadful tem- 
per, Arabella.’’ 

have heard that Cousin Dick Hyde has a tem- 
per too.” 

“Dick is vain; and you can make a vain man 
stand on his head, or go down on his knees, if you 
only vow that he performs the antics better than 
any other human creature. The town will fling 
itself at Dick Hyde’s feet, and Dick will fling him- 
self at yours. Mind what I say : my prophecies al- 
ways come true, Arabella, for I never expect sinners 
to be saints, my dear.” 

And during the next six months Lady Capel 
found plenty of opportunities for complimenting 
herself upon her own penetration. Society made 
an idol of Captain Hyde; and, if he was not at 
Lady Arabella’s feet, he was certainly very con- 
stantly at her side. As to his marriage, it was a 
topic of constant doubt and dispute. The clubs 


LONDON LIFE 


259 

betted on the subject. In the ballrooms and the 
concert-rooms, the ladies positively denied it; and 
Lady Arabella’s smile and shrug were of all 
opinions the most unsatisfactory and bewildering. 
Some, indeed, admitted the marriage, but averred, 
with a meaning emphasis, that madam was on the 
proper side of the Atlantic. Others were certain 
that Hyde had brought his wife to England, but 
felt himself obliged, on account of her great beauty, 
to keep her away from the conquering heroes of 
London society. It was a significant index to 
Hyde’s real character that not one of his associates 
ever dared to be familiar enough to ask him for the 
truth on a question so delicately personal. 

“Hyde is exactly the man to invite me to meet 
him in Marylebone Fields for the answer,” said a 
young officer, who had been urged to make inquiries 
because he was on familiar terms with his comrade. 
“If it comes to a matter of catechism, gentlemen. 
I’ll bet ten to one that none of you ask him two 
consecutive questions regarding the American lady.” 

And perhaps many husbands may be able to un- 
derstand a fact, which to the general world seems 
beyond satisfactory explanation. Hyde loved his 
wife, loved her tenderly and constantly ; he felt him- 
self to be a better man whenever he thought of her 
and his little son, and he thought of them very fre- 
quently; and yet his eyes, his actions, the tones of 
his voice, daily led his cousin. Lady Suffolk, to im- 
agine herself the empress of his heart and life. Nor 
was it to her alone that he permitted this affectation 


26 o the bow of orange RIBBON 

of love. He found beauty, wherever he met it, pro- 
vocative of the same apparent devotion. There 
were a dozen men in his own circle who hated him 
with all the sincerity that jealousy gives to dislike 
and envy; there were a score of women who be- 
lieved themselves to have private tokens of Hyde’s 
special admiration for them. 

Unfortunately, his military duties were only on 
very rare occasions any restraint to him. His days 
were mainly spent in dangling after Lady Sufifolk 
and other fair dames. It was auctions at Christie’s, 
and morning concerts, and afternoon rides and 
plays, and dinners and balls and masks at Rane- 
lagh’s. It was sails down the river to Richmond, 
and trips to Sadler’s Wells, and one perpetual round 
of flirting and folly, of dressing and dancing and 
dining and gaming. 

And it must be remembered that the English 
women of that day were such as England may well 
hope never to see again. They had little education : 
many very great ladies could hardly read and spell 
properly. Their sole accomplishments were dress- 
ing and embroidery ; the ability to make a few deli- 
cate dishes for the table, and scents and pomade 
for the toilet. In the higher classes they married 
for money or position, and gave themselves up to 
intrigue. They drank deeply; they played high; 
they very seldom went to church, for Sunday was 
the fashionable day for all kinds of frivolity and 
amusement. And as the men of any generation are 
just what the women make them, England never 


LONDON LIFE 


261 


had sons so profligate, so profane and drunken. 
The clubs, especially Brooke’s, were the nightly 
scenes of indescribable orgies. Gambling was their 
serious occupation; duels were of constant occur- 
rence. 

Such a life could not be lived except at frightful 
and generall)^ ruinous expense. Hyde was soon em- 
barrassed. His pay was small and uncertain; and 
the allowance which his brother William added to 
it, in order that the heir-apparent to the earldom 
might live, in becoming style, had not been calcu- 
lated on the squandering basis of Hyde’s expendi- 
tures. Toward Christmas bills began to pour in, 
creditors became importunate, and, for the first time 
in his life, creditors really troubled him. Lady 
Capel was not likely to pay his debts any more. The 
earl, in settling Hyde’s American obligations, had 
warned him against incurring others, and had 
frankly told him he would permit him to go to jail 
rather than pay such wicked and foolish bills for 
him again. The income from Hyde Manor had 
never been more than was required for the expenses 
of the place and the interest on Katherine’s money 
had gone, though he could not tell how. He was 
destitute of ready cash, and he foresaw that he 
would have to borrow some from Lady Capel or 
some other accommodating friend. 

He returned to barracks one Sunday afternoon, 
and was moodily thinking over these things, when 
his orderly brought him a letter which had arrived 
during his absence. It was from Katherine. His 


262 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

face flushed with delight as he read it, so sweet and 
tender and pure was the neat epistle. He compared 
it mentally with some of the shameless scented billet- 
doux he was in the habit of receiving; and he felt 
as if his hands were unworthy to touch the white 
wings of his Katherine’s most womanly, wifely mes- 
sage. “She wants to see me. Oh, the dear one! 
Not more than I want to see her. Fool, villain, that 
I am: I will go to her. Katherine! Kate! My 
dear little Kate!” So he ejaculated as he paced his 
narrow quarters, and tried to arrange his plans for 
a Christmas visit to his wife and child. 

First he went to his colonel’s lodging, and easily 
obtained two weeks’ absence; then he dressed care- 
fully, and went to his club for dinner. He had de- 
termined to ask Lady Capel for a hundred pounds; 
and he thought it would be the best plan to make 
his request when she was surrounded by company, 
and under the pleasurable excitement of a winning 
rubber. And if the circumstances proved adverse, 
then he could try his fortune in the hours of her 
morning retirement. 

The mansion in Berkeley Square was brilliantly 
lighted when he approached it. Chairs and coaches 
were waiting in lines of three deep; coachmen and 
footmen quarreling, shouting, talking; link-boys 
running here and there in search of lost articles or 
missing servants. But the hubbub did not at that 
time make his blood run quicker, or give any light 
of expectation to his countenance ; for his heart and 
thoughts were near a hundred miles away. 


LONDON LIFE 


263 

Sunday night was Lady Capel’s great card-night, 
and the rooms were full of tables surrounded by 
powdered and painted beauties intent upon the 
game and the gold. The odor of musk was every- 
where, and the sound of the tapping of gold snuff- 
boxes, and the fluttering of fans, and the sharp, tech- 
nical calls of the gamesters, and the hollow laughter 
of hollow hearts. There was a hired singing-girl 
with a lute at one end of the room, babbling of 
Cupid and Daphne, and green meadows and larks. 
But she was poorly dressed and indifferent looking; 
and she sang with a sad, mechanical air, as if her 
thoughts were far off. Hyde would have passed 
her without a glance; but, as he approached, she 
broke her love-ditty in two, and began to sing, with 
a meaning look at him : 

“ ‘They say there is a happy land, 

Where husbands never prove untrue; 

Where lovely maids may give their hearts, 

And never need the gift to rue; 

Where men can make and keep a vow, 

And wives are never in despair. 

I’m very fond of seeing sights, — 

Pray tell me, how can I get there?’” 

The question seemed so directly addressed to 
Hyde that he hesitated a moment, and looked at 
the girl, who then with a mocking smile continued : 

“ ‘They say there really is a land, 

Where husbands never are untrue. 

Where wives are always beautiful. 

And the old love is always new. 


264 the bow of orange RIBBON 

I’ve asked the wise to tell me how 
A loving woman could get there, 

And this is what they say to me, — 

“ ‘If you that happy land would see. 

There’s only one way to get there: 

Go straight along the crooked lane, 

And all around the square””^ 

The scornful little song followed him, and con- 
veyed a certain meaning to his mind. The girl must 
have taken her cue from the gossip of those who 
passed her to and fro. He burned with indignation, 
not for himself, but for his sweet, pure Katherine. 
He was determined that the world should in the 
future know that he held her peerless among women. 
In this half-aggressive mood he approached Lady 
Capel. She had been unfortunate all the evening, 
and was not amiable. As he stood behind her chair. 
Lord Leffham asked : 

‘'What think you, Hyde, of a party at picquet?” 

“Oh, indeed, my lord, you are too much for 
me 1” 

“I will give you three points.’^ Then, calling a 
footman : “Here, fellow, get cards.’’ 

Lady Capel flung her own down. “No, no, Leflf- 
ham. Spare my grandson: there are bigger fish 
here. — Dick, I am angry at you. I have a mind to 
banish you for a month.” 

“I am going to Norfolk for two weeks, madam.” 

“That will do. It is a worse punishment than I 
should have given you. Norfolk ! There is only one 
word between it and the plantations. At this time 
of the year it is a clay pudding full of villages. 


LONDON LIFE 


265 

Give me your arm, Dick : I shall play no more until 
my luck turns. Losing cards are dull company.” 

“I am very sorry that you have been losing. I 
came to ask for the loan of a hundred pounds, 
grandmother.” 

‘‘No, sir, I will not lend you a hundred pounds; 
nor am I in the humor to do anything else you 
desire.” 

“I make my apology for the request. I ought to 
have asked Katherine.” 

“No, sir, you ought not to have asked Katherine. 
You ought to take what you want. Jack Capel took 
every shilling of my fortune, and neither said, ‘by 
your leave,' nor ‘thank you.' Did the Dutchman tie 
the bag too close ?” 

“Councilor Van Heemskirk left it open, in my 
honor. When I am scoundrel enough to touch it, 
I shall not come and see you at all, grandmother.” 

“Upon my word, a very pretty compliment! 
Well, sir. I'll pay you a hundred pounds for it. 
When do you start?” 

“To-morrow morning.” 

“Make it afternoon, and take care of me as far 
as your Aunt Julia's. The duke is of the royal bed- 
chamber this month, and I am going to see my 
daughter while he is away. It will make him su- 
premely wretched at court to know that I am in 
his house. So I am going there, and I shall take 
care he knows it.” 

“I have heard a great deal of his new house.” 

“A playhouse kind of affair, Dick, I assure you 


266 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

— all in the French style; gods and goddesses above 
your head, and very badly dressed nymphs all 
around, and his pedigree on every window, and his 
coat-of-arms on the very stairs. I have the greatest 
satisfaction in treading upon them, I assure you.'’ 

“Why do you take the trouble to go? It can 
give you no pleasure.” 

“Imagine the true state of things, Dick. The 
duke is at court — say he is holding the royal gold 
wash-basin ; but in the very sunshine of King 
George’s smile, he is thinking: ‘That snuffy old 
woman is lounging in my white and gilt satin 
chairs, and handling all my Chinese curiosities, and 
asking if every hideous Hindu idol is a fresh like- 
ness of me.’ I am always willing to take some 
trouble to give pleasure to the people I like; I will 
gladly go to any amount of trouble to annoy the 
people I hate as cordially as I hate my good, rich, 
noble son-in-law, the great Duke of Exmouth.” 

“Will you play again?” 

“No : I lost seventy pounds to-night.” 

“I protest, grandmother, that such high stakes go 
not with amusement. People come here, not for 
civility, but for the chance of money.” 

“Very well, sir. Money! It is the only excuse 
for card-playing. All the rest is sinning without 
temptation. But, Dick, put on the black coat to 
preach in — why do they wear black to preach in? 
— and I am not in a humor for a sermon. Come 
to-morrow at one o’clock : we shall reach Julia’s be- 
fore dinner. And I dare say you want money to- 


LONDON LIFE 


267 

night. Here are the keys of my desk. In the right- 
hand drawer are some rouleaus of fifty pounds each. 
Take two.’’ 

The weather, as Lady Capel said, was “so very 
Decemberish” that the roads were passably good, 
being frozen dry and hard; and on the evening of 
the third day Hyde came in sight of his home. His 
heart warmed to the lonely place ; and the few lights 
in its windows beckoned him far more pleasantly 
than the brilliant illuminations of Vauxhall or Al- 
macks, or even the cold splendors of royal recep- 
tions. He had given Katherine no warning of his 
visit — partly because he had a superstitious feeling 
about talking of expected joys (he had noticed that 
when he did so they vanished beyond his grasp) ; 
partly because love, like destiny, loves surprises ; and 
he wanted to see with his own eyes, and hear with 
his own ears, the glad tokens of her happy wonder . 

So he rode his horse upon the turf, and, seeing 
a light in the stable, hurried him there at once. It 
was just about the hour of the evening meal, and 
the house was brighter than it would have been a 
little later. The kitchen fire threw great lustres 
across the brick-paved yard ; and the blinds in Kath- 
erine’s parlor were undrawn, and its fire and candle 
light shone . on the freshly laid tea-table, and the 
dark walls gleaming with bunches of holly and mis- 
tletoe. But she was not there. He only glanced 
inside the room, and then, with a smile on his face, 
went swiftly upstairs. He had noticed the light in 
the upper windows, and he knew where he would 


268 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


find his wife. Before he reached the nursery, he 
heard Katherine’s voice. The door was a little open, 
and he could see every part of the charming domes- 
tic scene within the room. A middle-aged woman 
was quietly putting to rights the sweet disorder in- 
cident to the undressing of the baby. Katherine 
had played with it until they were both a little 
flushed and weary; and she was softly singing to 
the drowsy child at her breast. 

It was a very singular, chiming melody, and the 
low, sweet, tripping syllables were in a language 
quite unknown to him. But he thought that he had 
never heard music half so sweet and tender ; and he 
listened to it, and watched the drowsy, swaying 
movements of the mother, with a strange delight: 

“ Trip a trop a tronjes, 

De varkens in de boonjes, 

De keojes in de klaver 
De paardeen in de haver 
De eenjes in de waterplass 
So groot mijn kleine Joris wass.”‘ 

Over and over, softer and slower, went the mel- 
ody. It was evident that the boy was asleep, and 
that Katherine was going to lay him in his cradle. 
He watched her do it; watched her gently tuck in 
the cover, and stand a moment to look down at the 
child. Then with a face full of love she turned 
away, smiling, and quite unconsciously came toward 

* Mrs. Vanderbilt of Flatbush says this was the common lullaby in all the 
Dutch settlements on the Hudson. A free translation is, that the mother’s 
knee is for a little child a little throne, where he can be as happy as pigs 
in beans, or cows in clover, or horses among oats, or ducks in water. 


LONDON LIFE 269 

him on tiptoes. With his face beaming, with his 
arms opened, he entered; but with such a sympa- 
thetic understanding of the sweet need of silence and 
restraint that there was no alarm, no outcry, no fuss 
or amazement. Only a whispered “Katherine,” 
and the swift rapture of meeting hearts and lips. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE 

“Death asks for no man’s leave, 

But lifts the latch, and enters, and sits down.” 

“Each hour brought her its sunny task, its busy hope.” 

“The faults of love by love are justified.” 

“It takes two to tell a lie, — one to speak, and the other to 


listen.” 



HE great events of most lives occur in epochs. 


1 A certain period is marked by a succession 
of important changes; but that tide of fortune, be 
it good or ill, culminates, recedes, goes quite out, 
and leaves life on a level beach of commonplaces. 
Then, sooner or later, the current of affairs turns 
again; sometimes with a calm, irresistible flow, 
sometimes in a tidal wave of sudden and over- 
whelming strength. After Hyde’s and Katherine’s 
marriage, there was a long era noticeable only for 
such vicissitudes as were incident to their fortune 
and position. But in May, a. d. 1774, the first mur- 
mur of the returning tide of destiny was heard. 
Not but that there had been for long some vague 
and general expectation of momentous events, which 
would touch many individual lives; but, this May 
night, a singular prescience of change made Hyde 
restless and impatient. 


270 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE 


2yi 


It was a dull, drizzling evening ; and there was an 
air of depression in the city, to which he was un- 
usually sensitive. For the trouble between England 
and her American Colonies was rapidly culminat- 
ing; and party feeling ran high, not only among 
civilians, but throughout the royal regiments. Re- 
cently, also, a petition had been laid before the king 
from the Americans then resident in London, pray- 
ing him not to send troops to coerce his subjects in 
America; and, when Hyde entered his club, some 
members were engaged in an angry altercation on 
this subject. 

^^The petition was flung upon the table, as it 
ought to have been,” said Lord Paget. 

‘‘You are right,” replied Mr. Hervey; “they 
ought to petition no longer. They ought now to 
resist. Mr. Dunning said in the House last night 
that the tone of the Government to the Colonies 
was: ‘Resist, and we will cut your throats; acqui- 
esce, and we will tax you.' ” 

“A kind of ‘stand and deliver’ government,” re- 
marked Hyde, whistling softly. 

Lord Paget turned upon him with hardly con- 
cealed anger. “Captain, you, sir, wear the king’s 
livery.” 

“I give the king my service: my thoughts are 
my own. And, faith, Lord Paget, it is my humor 
to utter them when and how I please.” 

“Patience, gentlemen,” returned Mr. Hervey. 
“I think, my lord, we may follow our leaders. The 
Duke of Richmond spoke warmly for Boston last 


272 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

nigfit. The Bostonians are punished without a 
hearing/ he said ; ‘and, if they resist punishment, I 
wish them success/ Are they not Englishmen, and 
many of them born on English soil? When have 
Englishmen submitted to oppression? Neither king, 
lords, nor commons can take away the rights of the 
people. It is past a doubt, too, that his Majesty, at 
the levee last night, laughed when he said he would 
just as lief fight the Bostonians as the French. I 
heard this speech was received with a dead silence, 
and that great offense was given by it.” 

“I think the king was right,” said Paget pas- 
sionately. “Rebellious subjects are worse than open 
enemies like the French.” 

“My lord, you must excuse me if I do not agree 
with your opinions. Was the king right to give a 
government to the Canadians at this precise time? 
What can his Protestant North American subjects 
think but that he designs the hundred thousand 
Catholics of Canada against their liberties? It is 
intolerable; and the king was mobbed this after- 
noon in the park, on the matter. As for the bishops 
who voted the Canada bill, they ought to be un- 
frocked.” 

“Mr. Hervey, I beg to remind you that my 
uncle, who is of the see of St. Cuthbert, voted 
for it.” 

“Oh, it is notorious that all the English bishops, 
excepting only Dr. Shipley, voted for war with 
America! I hear that they anticipate an hierarchy 
there when the country is conquered. And the fight 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE 


273 

has begun at home, for Parliament is dissolved on 
the subject/' 

“It died in the Roman Catholic faith,” laughed 
Hyde, “and left us a rebellion for a legacy.” 

“Captain Hyde, you are a traitor.” 

“Lord Paget, I deny it. My loyalty does not 
compel me to swear by all the follies and crimes 
of the Government. My sword is my country’s; 
but I would not, for twenty kings, draw it against 
my own countrymen” — then with a meaning glance 
at Lord Paget, and an emphatic touch of his weapon 
— “except in my own private quarrel. And, if this 
be treason, let the king look to it. He will find 
such treason in every regiment in England. They 
says he is going to hire Hessians: he will need 
them for his American business, for he has no 
prerogative to force Englishmen to murder En- 
glishmen.” 

“I would advise yo ! to be more prudent. Captain 
Hyde, if it is in your power.” 

“I would advise you to mind your own affairs, 
Lord Paget.” 

“It is said that you married an American.” 

“If you are perfectly in your senses, my lord, 
leave my affairs alone.” 

“For my part, I never believed it; and now that 
Lady Suffolk is a widow, with revenues, possibly 
you may — ” 

“Ah, you are jealous, I perceive!” and Hyde 
laughed scornfully, and turned on his heel as if 
to go upstairs. 


274 the bow of orange ribbon 

Lord Paget followed, and laid his hand upon 
Hyde’s arm. 

^‘Hands off, my lord. Hands off all that belongs 
to me. And I advise you also to cease your imperti- 
nent attentions to my cousin. Lady Suffolk.” 

‘‘Gentlemen,” said Mr. Hervey, “this is no time 
for private quarrels; and, captain, here is a fellow 
with a note for you. It is my Lady Capel’s foot- 
man, and he says he comes in urgent speed.” 

Hyde glanced at the message. “It is a last com- 
mand, Mr. Hervey; and I must beg you to say what 
is proper for my honor to Lord Paget. Lady Capel 
is at the death-point, and to her requests I am first 
bounden.” 

It was raining hard when he left the club, a most 
dreary night in the city. The coach rattled through 
the muddy streets, and brought, as it went along, 
many a bored, heavy countenance to the steaming 
windows, to watch and to wonder at its pace. Lady 
Capel had been death-stricken while at whist, and 
she had not been removed from the parlor in 
which she had been playing her last game. She 
was stretched upon a sofa in the midst of the de- 
serted tables, yet covered with scattered cards and 
half-emptied tea-cups. Only Lady Suffolk and a 
physician were with her; though the corridor was 
full of terrified, curious servants, not unkindly 
gloating over such a bit of sensation in their pro- 
saic lives. 

At this hour it was evident, that, above every- 
thing in the world, the old lady had loved the wild. 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE 


275 


extravagant grandson, whose debts she had paid 
over and over, and whom she had for years alter- 
nately petted and scolded. 

‘‘Oh, Dick,” she whispered, “Fve got to die! We 
all have. Fve had a good time, Dick.” 

“Shall I go for Cousin Harold ? I can bring him 
in an hour.” 

“No, no. I want no priests; no better than we 
are, Dick. Harold is a proud sinner; Lord, what 
a proud sinner he is!” Then, with a glint of her 
usual temper, “He’d snub the twelve apostles if he 
met them without mitres. No priests, Dick. It is 
you I want. I have left you eight thousand pounds 
— all I could save, Dick. Everything goes back 
to William now; but the eight thousand pounds is 
yours. Arabella is witness to it. Dick, Dick, you 
will think of me sometimes?” 

And Hyde kissed her fondly. Ugly, heartless, 
sinful, she might be to others; but to him she had 
been a double mother. 

“Fll never forget you,” he answered, “never, 
grandmother.” 

“I know what the town wilt say: ‘Well, well, old 
Lady Capel has gone to her deserts at last.’ Don’t 
mind them, Dick. Let them talk. They will have 
to go too : it’s the old round — meat and mirth, and 
then to bed — a — long — sleep.” 

“Grandmother?” 

“I hear you, Dick. Good night.” 

“Is there anything you want done? Think, dear 
grandmother.” 


276 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

“Don't let Exmouth come to my funeral. I don't 
want him — grinning over — my coffin." 

“Any other thing?" 

“Put me beside Jack Capel. I wonder — if I shall 
— see Jack." A shadow, gray and swift, passed 
over her face. Her eyes flashed one piteous look 
into Hyde's eyes, and then closed forever. 

And while in the rainy, dreary London twilight 
Lady Capel was dying, Katherine was in the garden 
at Hyde Manor, watching the planting of seeds that 
were in a few weeks to be living things of beauty 
and sweetness. It had ceased raining at noon in 
Norfolk; and the gravel walks were perfectly dry, 
and the air full of the fragrance of innumerable 
violets. All the level land was wearing buttercups. 
Full of secrets, of fluttering wings, and building 
nests were the trees. In the apple-blooms the bees 
were humming, delirious with delight. From the 
beehives came the peculiar and exquisite odor of 
virgin wax. Somewhere near, also, the gurgle of 
running water spread an air of freshness all around. 

And Katherine, with a little basket full of flower- 
seeds, was going with the gardener from bed to 
bed, watching him plant them. No one who had 
seen her in the childlike loveliness of her early girl- 
hood could have imagined the splendor of her ma- 
tured beauty. She had grown “divinely tall," and 
the exercise of undisputed authority had added a 
gracious stateliness of manner. Her complexion 
was wonderful, her large blue eyes shining with 
tender lights, her face full of sympathetic revela- 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE 


277 

tions. Above all, she had that nameless charm 
which comes from a freedom from all anxious 
thought for the morrow; that charm of which the 
sweet secret is generally lost after the twentieth 
summer. Her basket of seeds was clasped to her 
side within the hollow of her left arm, and with 
her right hand she lifted a long petticoat of quilted 
blue satin. Above this garment she wore a gown 
of wood-colored taffeta, sprigged with rose-buds, 
and a stomacher of fine lace to match the deep 
rufflings on her elbow-sleeves. 

Little Joris was with his mother, running hither 
and thither, as his eager spirits led him ; now paus- 
ing to watch her drop from her white fingers the 
precious seed into its prepared bed, anon darting 
after some fancied joy among the pyramidal yews, 
and dusky treillages, and cradle walks of holly and 
privit. For, as Sir Thomas Swaffham said, ‘‘Hyde 
garden looked just as if brought from Holland;” 
and especially so in the spring, when it was ablaze 
with gorgeous tulips and hyacinths. 

She had heard much of Lady Capel, and she had 
a certain tenderness for the old woman who loved 
her husband so truly; but no thought of her en- 
tered into Katherine’s mind that calm evening hour. 
Neither had she any presentiment of sorrow. Her 
soul w'as happy and untroubled, and she lingered 
in the sweet place until the tender touch of gray 
twilight was over fen and field. Then her maid, 
with a manner full of pleasant excitement, came 
to her, and said: 


278 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

“Here be a London pedler, madam; and he do 
have all the latest fashions, and the news of the 
king and the Americans.’’ 

Now, for many reasons, the advent of a London 
pedler was a great and pleasant event at the Manor 
House. Katherine had that delightful and excus- 
able womanly foible, a love of fine clothing; and 
shops for its sale were very rare, even in towns of 
considerable size. It was from packmen and hawk- 
ers that fine ladies bought their laces and ribbons 
and gloves; their precious toilet and hairpins, their 
paints and powders, and India scarfs and fans, and 
even jewelry. These hawkers were also the great 
news-bearers to the lonely halls and granges and 
farmhouses; and they were everywhere sure of a 
welcome, and of such entertainment as they re- 
quired. Generally each pedler had his recognized 
route and regular customers; but occasionally a 
strange dealer called, and such, having unfamiliar 
wares, was doubly welcome. “Is it Parkins, Let- 
tice?” asked Katherine, as she turned with interest 
toward the house. 

“No, ma’am, it isn’t Parkins; and I do think as 
the man never showed a face in Hyde before; but 
he do say that he has a miracle of fine things.” 

In a few minutes he was exhibiting them to Kath- 
erine, and she was too much interested in the wares 
to notice their merchant particularly. Indeed, he 
had one of those faces which reveal nothing : a 
face flat, hard, secret as a wall, wrinkled as an old 
banner. He was a hale, thick-set man, dressed in 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE 


279 

breeches of corduroy, and a -sleeved waistcoat down 
to his knees of the same material. His fur cap was 
on the carpet beside his pack; and he had a fluent 
tongue in praise of his wares, as he hung his silks 
over Lettice's outstretched arm, or arranged the 
scarfs across her shoulders. 

There was a slow but mutually satisfactory ex- 
change of goods and money; and then the pedler 
began to repack his treasures, and Lettice to carry 
away the pretty trifles and the piece of satin her 
mistress had bought. Then, also, he found time to 
talk, to take out the last newspapers, and to describe 
the popular dissatisfaction at the stupid tyranny of 
the Government toward the Colonies. For either 
from information, or by some process rapid as in- 
stinct, he understood to which side Katherine’s sym- 
pathies went. 

“Here be the ‘Flying Postman,’ madam, with the 
great speech of Mr. Burke in it about the port of 
Boston; but it won’t do a mossel o’ good, madam, 
though he do tell ’em to keep their hands out o’ the 
Americans’ pockets.” 

“The port of Boston ?” 

“See you, madam, they are a-going to shut the 
port o’ Boston, and make Salem the place of entry; 
that’s to punish the Bostonians; and Mr. Burke, he 
says. The House has been told that Salem is only 
seventeen miles from Boston; but justice is not an 
idea of geography, and the Americans are con- 
demned without being heard. Yet the universal 
custom, on any alteration of charters, is to hear 


28 o the bow of orange RIBBON 

the parties at the bar of the House. Now, the 
question is, are the Americans to be heard, or not, 
before the charter is broken for our convenience. . . . 
The Boston bill is a diabolical bill.’ ” 

He read aloud this bit of Mr. Burke’s fiery 
eloquence, in a high, droning voice, and would, 
according to his custom, have continued the enter- 
tainment; but Katherine, preferring to use her own 
intelligence, borrowed the paper and was about to 
leave the room with it, when he suddenly remem- 
bered a scarf of great beauty which he had not 
shown. 

“I bought it for my Lady Suffolk,” he said ; ‘Tut 
Lord Suffolk died sudden, and black my lady had 
to wear. It’s forrin, madam; and here it is — the 
very color of affradiles. But mayhap, as it is candle- 
teening, you’d like to wait till the day comes again.” 

A singular look of speculation came into Kath- 
erine’s face. She examined the scarf without delay ; 
and, as she fingered the delicate silk, she led the 
man on to talk of Lady Suffolk, though, indeed, he 
scarcely needed the stimulus of questioning. With- 
out regard as to whether Katherine was taking any 
interest or not in his information, he detailed with 
hurried avidity the town talk that had clung to her 
reputation for so many years; and he so fully de- 
scribed the handsome cavalry officer that was her 
devoted attendant, that Katherine could have had 
no difficulty in recognizing her husband, even with- 
out the clues which her own knowledge of the parties 
gave her. 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE 


281 


She stood in the gray light by the window, finger- 
ing the delicate satin, and listening. The pedler 
glanced from his goods to her face, and talked rap- 
idly, interloping bits of news about the court and 
the fashions; but going always back to Lady Suf- 
folk and her lover, and what was likely to take 
place now that Lord Suffolk was out of the way. 
‘‘Though there’s them that do say the captain has 
a comely wife hid up in the country.” 

Suddenly she turned an.d faced the stooping man : 
“Your scarf take: I will not have it. No, and I 
will not have anything that I have bought from you. 
All of the goods you shall receive back; and my 
money, give it to me. You are no honest hawker: 
you are a bad man, who have come here for a bad 
woman. You know that of my husband you have 
been talking — I mean lying. You know that this 
is his house, and that his true wife am I. Not one 
more word shall you speak. — Lettice, bring here all 
the goods I bought from this man ; poisoned may be 
the unguents and scents and gloves. Of such things 
I have heard.” 

She had spoken with an angry rapidity that for 
the moment confounded the stranger; but at this 
point he lifted himself with an insolent air, and said : 
“The goods be bought and paid for, madam; and, 
in faith, I will not buy them back again.” 

“In faith, then, I will send for Sir Thomas 
Swaffham. A magistrate is he, and Captain Hyde’s 
friend. Not one penny of my money shall you have; 
for, indeed, your goods I will not wear.” 


282 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


She pointed then to the various articles which 
Lettice had brought back; and, with the shrug of 
a man who accepts the inevitable, he replaced them 
in his pack, and then ostentatiously counted back 
the money Katherine had given him. She examined 
every coin, and returned a crown. “My piece this 
is not. It may be false. I will have the one I gave 
to you. — Lettice, bring here water in a bowl; let 
the silver and gold lay in it until morning.’’ And, 
turning to the pedler, “Your cap take from the floor, 
and go.” 

“Surely, madam, you be not so cruel as to turn 
me on the fens, and it a dark night. There be bogs 
all about; and how the road do lay for the next 
house, I know not.” 

“The road to my house you could find; well, 
then, you can find the road back to the woman 
who sent you here. With my servants you shall 
not sit; under my roof you shall not stay.” 

“I have no mind to go.” 

“See you the mastiff at my feet? I advise you 
stir him not up, for death is in his jaw. To the 
gate, and with good haste! In one-half hour the 
kennels I will have opened. If then within my boun- 
daries you are, it is at your life’s peril.” 

She spoke without passion and without hurry or 
alarm; but there was no mistaking the purpose in 
her white, resolute face and fearless attitude. And 
the pedler took in the situation very quickly ; for the 
dog was already watching him with eyes of fiery 
suspicion, and an occasional deep growl was either 


THE TURN OF THE TIDE 283 

a note of warning to his mistress, or of defiance to 
the intruder. With an evil glance at the beautiful, 
disdainful woman standing over him, the pedler rose 
and left the house ; Katherine and the dog so closely 
following, that the man, stooping under his heavy 
burden, heard her light footsteps and the mastiff’s 
heavy breathing close at his heels, until he passed 
the large gates and found himself on the dark fen, 
with just half an hour to get clear of a precinct 
he had made so dangerous to himself. 

For, when he remembered Katherine’s face, he 
muttered : “There isn’t a mossel o’ doubt but what 
she’ll hev the brutes turned loose. Dash it ! women 
do beat all. But I do hev one bit o’ comfort — ^high- 
to-instep as she is, she’s heving a bad time of it now, 
by herself. I do think that, for sure.” And the re- 
flection gave him some gratification as he cautiously 
felt his steps forward with his strong staff. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

“Let me not to the marriage of true minds 
Admit impediments: love is not love 
Which alters when it alteration finds.” 

“There’s beggary in the love that can be reckoned.” 

“The end crowns all.” 

I N some respects, the pedler’s anticipations were 
correct. Katherine had ‘‘a bad time by herself’’ 
that night; for evil has this woful prerogative — it 
can wound the good and the innocent, it can make 
wretched without provocation and without desert. 
But, whatever her suffering, it was altogether her 
own. She made no complaint, and she offered no 
explanation of her singular conduct. Her house- 
hold, however, had learned to trust her; and the 
men and women servants, sitting round the kitchen 
fire that night, talked over the circumstance, and 
found its very mystery a greater charm than any 
possible certainty, however terrible, could have given 
them. 

“She be a stout-hearted one,” said the ostler ad- 
miringly. “Tony and I a-watched her and the dog 
a-driving him through the gates. With his bundle 
on his back, he was a-shuffling along, a-nigh on Ids 
284 


THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 285 

all-fours ; and the madam at his heels, with her head 
up in the air, and her eyes a-shining like candles.’’ 

‘‘It would be about the captain he spoke.” 

The remark was ventured by Lettice in a low 
voice, and the company looked at each other and 
nodded confidentially. For the captain was a per- 
son of great and mysterious importance in the house. 
All that was done was in obedience to some order 
received from him. Katherine quoted him continu- 
ally, granted every favor in his name, made him the 
authority for every change necessary. His visits 
were times of holiday, when discipline was relaxed, 
and the methodical economy of life at the manor 
house changed into festival. And Hyde had pre- 
cisely that dashing manner, that mixture of frank- 
ness and authority, which dependents admire. The 
one place in the whole world where nobody would 
have believed wrong of Hyde was in Hyde’s own 
home. 

And yet Katherine, in the secrecy qf her cham- 
ber, felt her heart quake. She had refused to think 
of the circumstance until after she had made a pre- 
tense of eating her supper, and had seen little Joris 
asleep, and dismissed Lettice, with all her accus- 
tomed deliberation and order. But, oh, how grate- 
fully she turned the key of her room! How glad 
she felt to be alone with the fear and the sorrow 
that had come to her! For she wanted to face it 
honestly; and as she stood with eyes cast down, 
and hands clasped behind her back, the calm, reso- 
lute spirit of her fathers gathered in her heart, and 


286 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


gave an air of sorrowful purpose to her face and 
attitude. At that hour she was singularly like Joris 
Van Heemskirk; and any one familiar with the 
councilor would have known Katherine to be his 
daughter. 

Most women are restless when they are in anxiety. 
Katherine felt motion to be a mental disturbance. 
She sat down, and remained still as a carven image, 
thinking over what had been told her. There had 
been a time when her husband's constant talk of 
Lady Suffolk had pained her, and when she had 
been a little jealous of the apparent familiarity 
which existed in their relations with each other; 
but Hyde had laughed at her fears, and she had 
taken a pride in putting his word above all her sus- 
picions. She had seen him receive letters which she 
knew to be from Lady Suffolk. She had seen him 
read and destroy them without remark. She was 
aware that many a love-billet from fine ladies fol- 
lowed him to Hyde. But it was in accord with the 
integrity of her own nature to believe in her hus- 
band’s faithfulness. She had made one inquiry on 
the subject, and his assurance at that time she ac- 
cepted as a final settlement of all doubts. And if 
she had needed further evidence, she had found it 
in his affectionate and constant regard for her, and 
in his love for his child and his home. 

It was also a part of Katherine’s just and upright 
disposition to make allowances for the life by which 
her husband was surrounded. She understood that 
he must often be placed in circumstances of great 


THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 287 

temptation and suspicion. Hyde had told her that 
there were necessarily events in his daily experience 
of which it was better for her to be ignorant. '‘They 
belong to it, as my uniform does,” he said; “they 
are a part of its appearance: but they never touch 
my feelings, and they never do you a moment’s 
wrong, Katherine.” This explanation it had been 
the duty both of love and of wisdom to accept ; and 
she had done so with a faith which asked for no 
conviction beyond it. 

And now she was told that for years he had been 
the lover of another woman ; that her own existence 
was doubted or denied; that, if it were admitted, it 
was with a supposition which affected both her own 
good name and the rights of her child. In those 
days, America was at the ends of the earth. A war 
with it was imminent. The Colonies might be con- 
quered. She knew nothing of international rights, 
nor what changes such a condition might render 
possible. Hyde was the probable representative of 
an ancient noble English family, and its influence 
was great : if he really wished to annul their mar- 
riage, perhaps it was in his power to do so. She 
knew well how greedy rank was of rank and riches, 
and she could understand that there might be 
powerful family reasons for an alliance which 
would add Lady Suffolk’s wealth to the Hyde 
earldom. 

She was no craven, and she faced the position in 
all its cruel bearings. She asked herself if, even for 
the sake of her little Joris, she WQhld remain a wife 


288 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


on sufferance, or by the tie of rights which she 
would have to legally enforce; and then she lifted 
the candle, and passed softly into his room to look 
at him. Though physically like the large, fair, hand- 
some Van Heemskirks, little Joris had certain tricks 
of expression, certain movements and attitudes, 
which were the very reflection of his father’s — the 
same smile, the same droop of the hair on the fore- 
head, the same careless toss of the arm upward in 
sleep. It was the father in the son that answered 
her at that hour. She slipped down upon her knees 
by the sleeping boy, and out of the terror and sor- 
row of her soul spoke to the Fatherhood in heaven. 
Nay, but she knelt speechless and motionless, and 
waited until He spoke to her; spoke to her by the 
sweet, trustful little lips whose lightest touch was 
dear to her. For the boy suddenly awoke ; he flung 
his arms around her neck, he laid his face close to 
hers, and said : 

“Oh, mother, beautiful mother, I thought my 
father was here!” 

“You have been dreaming, darling Joris.” 

“Yes; I am sorry I have been dreaming. I 
thought my father was here — my good father, that 
loves us so much.” 

Then, with a happy face, Katherine rose and gave 
the child cool water, and turned his hot pillow, and 
with kisses sent him smiling into dreamland again. 
In those few tender moments all her fears slipped 
away from her heart. “I will not believe what a 
bad man says against my husband — against my dear 


THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 289 

one who is not here to defend himself. Lies, lies! 
I will make the denial for him.” 

And she kept within the comfort of this spirit, 
even though Hyde’s usual letter was three days 
behind its usual time. Certainly they were hard 
days. She kept busy; but she could not swallow a 
mouthful of food, and the sickness and despair that 
crouched at the threshold of her life made her light- 
est duties so heavy that it required a constant effort 
and a constant watchfulness to fulfil them. And 
yet she kept saying to herself : ‘‘All is right. I shall 
hear in a day or two. There is some change in the 
service. There is no change in Richard — none.” 

On the fourth day, her trust had its reward. She 
found then that the delay had been caused by the 
necessary charge and care of ceremonies which Lady 
Capel’s death forced upon her husband. She had 
almost a sentiment of gratitude to her, although she 
was yet ignorant of her bequest of eight thousand 
pounds. For Hyde had resolved to wait until the 
reading of the will made it certain, and then to re- 
sign his commission, and carry the double good 
news to Katherine himself. Henceforward, they 
were to be together. He would buy more land, and 
improve his estate, and live happily, away from the 
turmoil of the town, and the disagreeable duties of 
active service in a detestable quarrel. So this pur- 
pose, though unexpressed, gave a joyous ring to his 
letter ; it was lover-like in its fondness and hopeful- 
ness, and Katherine thought of Lady Suffolk and 
her emissary with a contemptuous indifference. 


290 \THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

‘‘My dear one, she intended that I should make 
miserable with reproaches, and from his own home 
drive him to her home for some consolations and 
Katherine smiled as she reflected how hopeless such 
a plan of separation would be. 

Never, perhaps, are we so happy, as v/hen we 
have just escaped some feared calamity. That let- 
ter lifted the last fear from Katherine’s heart, and 
it gave her also the expectation of an early visit. 
“I am very impatient to see you, my Kate,” he 
wrote; “and, as early as possible after the funeral, 
you may expect me.” The words rang like music 
in her heart. She read them aloud to little Joris, 
and then the whole household warmed to the intel- 
ligence. For there was always much pleasant prepa- 
ration for Hyde’s visits — clean rooms to make still 
cleaner, silver to polish, dainties to cook ; every weed 
to take from the garden, very unnecessary straw 
from the yards. For the master’s eye, everything 
must be beautiful. To the master’s comfort, every 
hand was delighted to minister. 

So these last days of May were wonderfully 
happy ones to Katherine. The house was in its 
summer draperies — all its windows open to the 
garden, which had now not only the freshness of 
spring, but the richer promise of summer. Kath- 
erine was always dressed with extraordinary care 
and taste. Little Joris was always lingering about 
the gates which commanded the longest stretch of 
observation. A joyful “looking forward” was upon 
every face. 


THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 291 

Alas, these are the unguarded hours which sor- 
row surprises! But no thought of trouble, and no 
fear of it, had Katherine, as she stood before her 
mirror one afternoon. She was watching Lettice 
arrange the double folds of her gray taffeta gown, 
so as to display a trifle the high scarlet heels of 
her morocco slippers, with their scarlet rosettes and 
small diamond buckles. 

“Too cold a color is gray for me, Lettice: give 
me those scarlet ribbons for a breast knot;” and as 
Lettice stood with her head a little on one side, 
watching her mistress arrange the bright bows at 
her stomacher, there came a knock at the chamber 
door. 

“Here be a strange gentleman, madam, to see 
you; from London, he do say.” 

A startled look came into Katherine^s face: she 
dropped the ribbon from her hand, and turned to 
the servant, who stood twisting a corner of her 
apron at the front door. 

“Well, then, Jane, like what is the stranger?” 

“He be in soldier's dress, madam — ” 

^‘What?” 

She asked no further question, but went down- 
stairs; and, as the tapping of her heels was heard 
upon them, Jane lifted her apron to her eyes and 
whimpered: “I think there be trouble; I do that, 
Letty.” 

“About the master?” 

“It be like it. And the man rides a gray horse, 
too. Drat the man, to come with news on a gray 


292 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

horse ! It be that unlucky, as no one in their seven 
senses would do it” 

‘Tor sure it be ! When I was a young wench at 
school — ” And then, as she folded up the loose rib- 
bons, Letty told a gruesome story of a farmer 
robbed and murdered; but, as she came to the part 
the gray horse played in it, Katherine slowly walked 
into the room, with a letter in her hand. She was 
white, even to her lips ; and, with a mournful shake 
of her head, she motioned to the girls to leave her 
alone. She put the paper out of her hand, and stood 
regarding it. Fully ten minutes elapsed ere she 
gathered strength sufficient to break its well-known 
seal, and take in the full meaning of words so full 
of agony to her. 

“It is midnight, beloved Katherine, and in six 
hours I may be dead. Lord Paget spoke of my 
cousin to me in such terms as leaves but one way 
out of the affront. I pray you, if you can, to par- 
don me. The world will condemn me, my own 
actions will condemn me; and yet I vow that you, 
and you only, have ever had my love. You I shall 
adore with my last breath. Kate, my Kate, forgive 
me. If this comes to you by strange hands, I shall 
be dead or dying. My will and papers of impor- 
tance are in the drawer marked “B” in my escri- 
toire. Kiss my son for me, and take my last hope 
and thought.” 

These words she read, then wrung her hands, and 
moaned like a creature that had been wounded to 
death. Oh, the shame! Oh, the wrong and sor- 


THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBOlN 293 

row! How could she bear it? What should she 
do? Captain Lennox, who had brought the letter, 
was waiting for her decision. If she would gc^ to 
her husband, then he could rest and return to LoiU- 
don at his leisure. If not, Hyde wanted his will, to' 
add a codicil regarding the eight thousand pounds 
left him by Lady Capel. For he had been wounded 
in his side; and, a dangerous inflammation having 
set in, he had been warned of a possible fatal result. 

Katherine was not a rapid thinker. She had lit- 
tle, either, of that instinct which serves some women 
instead of all other prudences. Her actions gen- 
erally arose from motives clear to her own mind, 
and of whose wisdom or kindness she had a convic- 
tion. But in this hour so many things appealed to 
her that she felt helpless and uncertain. The one 
thought that dominated all others was that her hus- 
band had fought and fallen for Lady Suffolk. He 
had risked her happiness and welfare, he had for- 
gotten her and his child, for this woman. It was 
the sequel to the impertinence of the pedler’s visit. 
She believed at that moment that the man had told 
her the truth. All these years she had been a 
slighted and deceived woman. 

This idea once admitted, jealousy of the cruelest 
and most unreasonable kind assailed her. Inci- 
dents, words, looks, long forgotten, rushed back 
upon her memory, and fed the flame. Very likely, 
if she left her child and went to London, she might 
find Lady Suffolk in attendance on her husband, or 
at least be compelled for his life’s sake to submit to 


294 "^HE bo IV of orange RIBBON 

her yisits. She pondered this supposition until it 
brot/jght forth one still more shameful. Perhaps the 
wlr/ole story was a scheme to get her up to London. 
iPerhaps she might disappear there. What, then, 
would be done to her child? If Richard Hyde was 
so infatuated with Lady Suffolk, what might he not 
do to win her and her large fortune? Even the 
news of Lady Capel’s death was now food for her 
suspicions. Was she dead, or was the assertion 
only a part of the conspiracy? If she had been 
dead. Sir Thomas Swaffham would have heard of 
the death; yet she had seen him that morning, and 
he had made no mention of the circumstance. 

“To London I will not go,'*' she decided. “There 
is some wicked plan for me. The will and the 
papers are wanted, that they may be altered to suit 
it. I will stay here with my child. Even sorrow 
great as mine is best borne in one’s own home.” 

She went to the escritoire to get the papers. 
When she opened the senseless chamber of wood, 
she found herself in the presence of many a tor- 
turing, tender memory. In one compartment there 
were a number of trout-flies. She remembered the 
day her husband had made them — a long, rainy, 
happy day during his last visit. Every time she 
passed him, he drew her face down to kiss it. And 
she could hear little Joris talking about the work, 
and his father’s gay laughter at the child’s remarks. 
In an open slide, there was a rude picture of a horse. 
It was the boy’s first attempt to draw Mephisto, and 
it had been carefully put away. The place was full 


THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 295 

of such appeals. Katherine rarely wept ; but, stand- 
ing before these mementos, her eyes filled, and with 
a sob she clasped her hands across them, as if the 
sight of such tokens from a happy past was in- 
tolerable. 

Drawer B was a large compartment full of papers 
and of Hyde's personal treasures. Among them 
was a ring that his father had given him, his 
mother's last letter, a lock of his son's hair, her own 
first letter — the shy, anxious note that she wrote to 
Mrs. Gordon. She looked sadly at these things, and 
thought how valueless all had become to him at that 
hour. Then she began to arrange the papers ac- 
cording to their size, and a small sealed parcel 
slipped from among them. She lifted it, and saw 
a rime in her husband's writing on the outside : 


‘*Oh, my love, my love ! This thy gift I hold 
More than fame or treasure, more than life or gold.** 

It had evidently been sealed within a few months, 
for it was in a kind of bluish-tinted paper which 
Hyde bought in Lynn one day during the past win- 
ter. She turned it over and over in her hand, and 
the temptation to see the love-token inside became 
greater every moment. This was a thing her hus- 
band had never designed any human eye but his own 
to see. Whatever revelation there was in it, much 
or little, would be true. Tortured by doubt and 
despair, she felt that impulse to rely on chance 
for a decision which all have experienced in mat- 


296 THE BOW OP ORANGE RIBBON 

ters of grave moment, apparently beyond natural 
elucidation. 

in this parcel there is some love-pledge from 
Lady Suffolk, then I go not ; nothing shall make me 
go. If in it there is no word of her, no message to 
her or from her; if her name is not there, nor the 
letters of her name — then I will go to my own. A 
new love, one not a year old, I can put aside. I will 
forgive every one but my Lady Suffolk.’’ 

So Katherine decided as she broke the seal with 
firmness and rapidity. The first paper within the 
cover made her tremble. It was a half sheet which 
she had taken one day from Bram’s hand, and it 
had Bram’s name across it. On it she had written 
the first few lines which she had had the right to 
sign “Katherine Hyde.” It was, indeed, her first 
“wife” letter; and within it was the precious love- 
token, her own love-token — the how of orange 
ribbon. 

She gave a sharp cry as it fell upon the desk ; and 
then she lifted and kissed it, and held it to her 
breast, as she rocked herself to and fro in a pas- 
sionate transport of triumphant love. Again and 
again she fed her eyes upon it. She recalled the 
night she wore it first, and the touch of her mother’s 
fingers as she fastened it at her throat. She recalled 
her father’s happy smile of proud admiration for 
her; the afternoon, next, when she had stood with 
Joanna at the foot of the garden and seen her lover 
wearing it on his breast. She remembered what she 
had heard about the challenge, and the desperate 


THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 297 

fight, and the intention of Semple’s servant to re- 
move the token from her senseless lover’s breast, 
and her father’s noble interference. The bit of 
fateful ribbon had had a strange history, yet she 
had forgotten it. It was her husband who had care- 
fully sealed it away among the things most precious 
to his heart and house. It still kept much of its 
original splendid color, but it was stained down all 
its length with blood. Nothing that Hyde could 
have done, no words that he could have said, would 
have been so potent to move her. 

‘T will give it to him again. With my own hands 
I will give it to him once more. Oh, Richard, my 
lover, my husband ! Now I will hasten to see thee.” 

With relays at every post-house, she reached Lon- 
don the next night, and, weary and terrified, drove 
at once to the small hostelry where Hyde lay. 
There was a soldier sitting outside his chamber door, 
but the wounded man was quite alone when Kath- 
erine entered. She took in at a glance the bare, com- 
fortless room, scarcely lit by the sputtering rush 
candle, and the rude bed, and the burning cheeks 
of the fevered man upon it. 

‘‘Katherine 1 ” he cried ; and his voice was as weak 
and as tearful as that of a troubled child. 

“Here come I, my dear one.” 

“I do not deserve it. I have been so wicked, and 
you my good, pure wife.’' 

“See, then, I have had no temptations, but thou 
hast lived in the midst of great ones. Then, how 
natural and how easy was it for thee to do wrong !” 


298 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

“Oh, how you love me, Katherine!” 

“God knows.” 

“And for this wrong you will not forsake me?” 

She took from her bosom the St. Nicholas ribbon. 
“I give it to thee again. At the first time I loved 
thee ; now, my husband, ten thousand times more I 
love thee. As I went through the papers, I found it. 
So much it said to me of thy true love ! So sweetly 
for thee it pleaded ! All that it asks for thee, I give. 
All that thou hast done wrong to me, it forgives.” 

And between their clasped hands it lay — the 
bit of orange ribbon that had handseled all their 
happiness. 

“It is the promise of everything I can give thee, 
my loved one,” whispered Katherine. 

“It is the luck of Richard Hyde. Dearest wife, 
thou hast given me my life back again.” 


CHAPTER XV 


TURNING WESTWARD 

*‘Wise men ne’er sit and wail their woes, 

But presently prevent the ways to wail.” 

“Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; 

And he but naked though locked up in steel, 

Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.” 

“Let determined things to destiny 
Hold unbewailed their way.” 

I T was a hot August afternoon; and the garden 
at Hyde Manor was full of scent in all its shady 
places — hot lavender, seductive carnation, the secre- 
tive intoxication of the large white lilies, and min- 
gling with them the warm smell of ripe fruits from 
the raspberry hedges, and the apricots and plums 
turning gold and purple upon the southern walls. 

Hyde sat at an open window, breathing the balmy 
air, and basking in the light and heat, which really 
came to him with ‘^healing on their wings.” He 
was pale and wasted from his long sickness; but 
there was speculation and purpose in his face, and 
he had evidently cast away the mental apathy of the 
invalid. As he sat thus, a servant entered and said 
a few words which made him turn with a glad, 
expectant manner to the open door; and, as he did 
so, a man of near sixty years of age passed through 

299 


300 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

it — a handsome, lordly-looking man, who had that 
striking personal resemblance to Hyde which affec- 
tionate brothers often have to one another. 

“Faith, William, you are welcome home! I am 
most glad to see you.’’ 

“Sit still, Dick. You sad rascal, you’ve been 
playing with cold steel again, I hear 1 Can’t you let 
it alone, at your age?” 

“Why, then, it was my business, as you know, sir. 
My dear William, how delighted I am to see you 1” 

“ ’Tis twelve years since we met, Dick. You have 
been in America ; I have been everywhere. I confess, 
too, I am amazed to hear of your marriage. And 
Hyde Manor is a miracle. I expected to find it 
moldy and mossy — a haunt for frogs and fever. 
On the contrary, it is a place of perfect beauty.” ^ 

“And it is all my Katherine’s doing.” 

“I hear that she is Dutch; and, beyond a doubt, 
that people have a genius that develops in low 
lands.” 

“She is my angel. I am unworthy of her good- 
ness and beauty.” 

“Why, then, Dick, I never saw you before in such 
a proper mood; and I may as well tell you, while 
you are in it, that I have also found a treasure past 
belief of the same kind. In fact, Dick, I am mar- 
ried, and have two sons.” 

There was a moment’s profound silence, and an 
inexplicable shadow passed rapidly over Hyde’s 
face; but it was fleeting as a thought, and, ere the 
pause became strained and painful, he turned to his 


TURNING WESTWARD 


301 

brother and said: “I am glad, William. With all 
my heart, I am glad.’' 

“Indeed, Dick, when Emily Capel died, I was sin- 
cere in my purpose never to marry; and I looked 
upon you always as the future earl, until one night 
in Rome, in a moment, the thing was altered.” 

“I can understand that, William.” 

“I was married very quietly, and have been in 
Italy ever since. Only four days have elapsed since 
I returned to England. My first inquiries were 
about you.” 

“I pray you, do not believe all that my enemies 
will say of me.” 

“Among other things, I was told that you had 
left the army.” 

“That is exactly true. When I heard that Lord 
Percy’s regiment was designed for America, and 
against the Americans, I put it out of the king’s 
power to send me on such a business.” 

“Indeed, I think the Americans have been ill- 
used ; and I find the town in a great commotion upon 
the matter. The night I landed, there had come bad 
news from New York. The people of that city 
have burned effigies of Lord North and Governor 
Hutchinson, and the new troops were no sooner 
landed than five hundred of them deserted in a 
body. At White’s it was said that the king fell into 
a fit of crying when the intelligence was brought 
him.” 

Hyde’s white face was crimson with excitement, 
and his eyes glowed like stars as he listened. “That 


302 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

was like New York; and, faith, if I had been there, 
I would have helped them 

“Why not go there? I owe you much for the 
hope, of which my happiness has robbed you. I will 
take Hyde Manor at its highest price ; I will add to 
it fifty thousand pounds indemnity for the loss of 
the succession. You may buy land enough for a 
duchy there, and found in the New World a new 
line of the old family. If there is war, you have 
your opportunity. If the colonists win their way, 
your family and means will make you a person 
of great consideration. Here, you can only be 
a member of the family ; in America, you can 
be the head of your own line. Dick, my dear 
brother, out of real love and honor, I speak 
these words.’^ 

“Indeed, William, I am very sensible of your 
kindness, and I will consider well your proposition; 
for you must know it is a matter of some conse- 
quence to me now. I think, indeed, that my Kath- 
erine will be in a transport of delight to return to her 
native land. I hear her coming, and we will talk 
with her; and, anon, you shall confess, William, 
that you have seen the sweetest woman that ever 
the sun shone upon.” 

Almost with the words she entered, clothed in a 
white India muslin, with carnations at her breast. 
Her high-heeled shoes, her large hoop, and the 
height to which her pale gold hair was raised, gave 
to the beautiful woman an air of majesty that 
amazed the earl. He bowed low, and then kissed 


TURNING WESTWARD 


303 

her cheeks, and led her to a chair, which he placed 
between Hyde and himself. 

Of course, the discussion of the American project 
was merely opened at that time. English people, 
even at this day, move only after slow and prudent 
deliberation; and then emigration was almost an 
irrevocable action. Katherine was predisposed to 
it, but yet she dearly loved the home she had made 
so beautiful. 

During Hyde’s convalescence, also, other plans 
had been made and talked over until they had 
become very hopeful and pleasant ; and they 
could not be cast aside without some reluct- 
ance. In fact, the purpose grew slowly, but surely, 
all through the following winter; being mainly fed 
by Katherine’s loving desire to be near to her 
parents, and by Hyde’s unconfessed desire to take 
part in the struggle which he foresaw, and which 
had his warmest sympathy. 

Every American letter strengthened these 
feelings; but the question was finally settled — as 
many an important event in every life is settled 
— by a person totally unknown to both Katherine 
and Hyde. 

It was on a cold, stormy afternoon in February, 
when the fens were white with snow. Hyde sat by 
the big wood-fire, rereading a letter from Joris Van 
Heemskirk, which also enclosed a copy of Josiah 
Quincy’s speech on the Boston Port Bill. Katherine 
had a piece of worsted work in her hands. Lit- 
tle Joris was curled up in a big chair with his book, 


304 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

seeing nothing of the present, only conscious of the 
gray, bleak waves of the English Channel, and the 
passionate Blake bearing down upon Tromp and De 
Ruyter. 

‘What a battle that would be!’’ he said, jumping 
to his feet. “Father, I wish that I had lived a hun- 
dred years ago.” 

“What are you talking about, George?” 

“Listen, then : ‘Eighty sail put to sea under Blake. 
Tromp and De Ruyter, with seventy-six sail, were 
seen, upon the i8th of February, escorting three 
hundred merchant-ships up the channel. Three 
days of desperate fighting ensued, and Tromp ac- 
quired prodigious honor by this battle; for, though 
defeated, he saved nearly the whole of his immense 
convoy.’ I wish I had been with Tromp, father.” 

“But an English boy should wish to have been 
with Blake.” 

“Tromp had the fewest vessels. One should al- 
ways help the weakest side, father. And, besides, 
you know I am half Dutch.” 

Katherine looked proudly at the boy, but Hyde 
had a long fit of musing. “Yes,” he answered at 
length, “a brave man always helps those who need 
it most. Your father’s letter, Katherine, stirs me 
wonderfully. Those Americans show the old Saxon 
love of liberty. Hear how one of them speaks for 
his people : ‘Blandishments will not fascinate us, nor 
will threats of a halter intimidate. For, under God, 
we are determined that wheresoever, whensoever, 
or howsoever we shall be called to make our exit. 


TURNING WESTWARD 


305 

we will die free men/ ^ Such men ought to be free, 
Katherine, and they will be free.” 

It was at this moment Lettice came in with a 
bundle of newspapers: 'They be brought by Sir 
Thomas Swaffham’s man, sir, with Sir Thomas’s 
compliments ; there being news he thinks you would 
like to read, sir.” 

Katherine turned promptly. "Spiced ale and 
bread and meat give to the man, Lettice; and to 
Sir Thomas and Lady Swaffham remind him to 
take our respectful thanks.” 

Hyde opened the papers with eager curiosity. 
Little Joris was again with Tromp and Blake in 
the channel ; and Katherine, remembering some 
household duty, left the father and son to their 
private enthusiasms. She was restless and anxious, 
for she had one of those temperaments that love a 
settled and orderly life. It would soon be spring, 
and there were a thousand things about the house 
and garden which would need her attention if they 
were to remain at Hyde. If not, her anxieties in 
other directions would be equally numerous and 
necessary. She stood at a window looking into 
the white garden. Something about it recalled her 
father’s garden; and she fell into such a train of 
tender memories that, when Hyde called quickly, 
"Kate, Kate!” she found that there were tears in 
her eyes, and that it was with an effort and a sigh 
her soul returned to its present surroundings. 

Hyde was walking about the room in great excite- 


Josiah Quincy’s (jun.) speech on the Boston Port Bill, 1774. 


3o6 the bow of orange RIBBON 

ment — his tall, nervous figure unconsciously throw- 
ing itself into soldierly attitudes ; his dark, handsome 
face lit by an interior fire of sympathetic feeling. 

“I must draw my sword again, Katherine,” he 
said, as his hand impulsively went to his left side, 
‘‘I must draw my sword again. I thought I had 
done with it forever; but, by St. George, I’ll draw 
it in this quarrel !” 

‘‘The American quarrel, Richard ?” 

“No other could so move me. We have the in- 
telligence now of their congress. They have not 
submitted; they have not drawn back, not an inch; 
they have not quarreled among themselves. They 
have unanimously voted for non-importation, non- 
exportation, and non-consumption. They have 
drawn up a declaration of their rights. They have 
appealed to the sympathies of the people of Canada, 
and they have resolved to support by arms all their 
brethren unlawfully attacked. Hurrah, Katherine! 
Every good man and true wishes them well.” 

“But it is treason, dear one.” 

^'Soh! It was treason when the barons forced 
the Great Charter from King John. It was treason 
when Hampden fought against ‘ship-money,’ and 
Cromwell against Star Chambers, and the Dutch- 
man William laid his firm hand on the British 
Constitution. All revolutions are treason until they 
are accomplished. We have long hesitated, we will 
waver no more. The conduct of Sir Jeffrey Am- 
herst has decided me.” 

“I know it not.” 


TURNING WESTWARD 


307 

“On the 6th of this month the king offered him 
a peerage if he would take command of the troops 
for America; and he answered : 'Your Majesty must 
know that I can not bring myself to fight the Amer- 
icans, who are not only of my own race, but to 
whose former kindness I am also much obliged.’ 
By the last mail, also, accounts have come of vast 
desertions of the soldiers of Boston; and three offi- 
cers of Lord Percy’s regiment are among the num- 
ber. Katherine, our boy has told me this afternoon ^ 
that he is half Dutch. Why should we stay in 
England, then, for his sake? We will do as Earl 
William advises us — go to America and found a 
new house, of which I and he will be the heads. 
Are you willing?” 

“Only to be with you, only to please you, Rich- 
ard. I have no other happiness.” 

“Then it is settled; and I thank Sir Jeffrey Am- 
herst, for his words have made me feel ashamed of 
my indecision. And look you, dear Kate, there shall 
be no more delays. The earl buys Hyde as it stands ; 
we have nothing except our personal effects to pack : 
can you be ready in a week?” 

“You are too impatient, Richard. In a week it 
is impossible.” 

“Then in two weeks. In short, my dear, I have 
taken an utter aversion to being longer in King 
George’s land.” 

“Poor king! Lady S waff ham says he means 
well : he misunderstands, he makes mistakes.” 

“And political mistakes are crimes, Katherine. 


3o8 the bow of orange RIBBON 

Write to-night to your father. Tell him that we are 
coming in two weeks to cast our lot with America. 
Upon my honor, I am impatient to be away.’’ 

When Joris Van Heemskirk received this letter, 
he was very much excited by its contents. Putting 
aside his joy at the return of his beloved daughter, 
he perceived that the hour expected for years had 
really struck. The true sympathy that had been so 
long in his heart, he must now boldly express; and 
this meant in all probability a rupture with most of 
his old associates and friends — Elder Semple in the 
kirk, and the Matthews and Crugers and Baches in 
the council. 

He was sitting in the calm evening, with unloos- 
ened buckles, in a cloud of fragrant tobacco, talking 
of these things. “It is full time, come what will,” 
said Lysbet. “Heard thou what Batavius said last 
night?” 

“Little I listen to Batavius.” 

“But this was a wise word. ‘The colonists are 
leaving the old ship,’ he said; ‘and the first in the 
new boat will have the choice of oars.’ ” 

“That was like Batavius, but I will take higher 
counsel than his.” 

Then he rose, put on his hat, and walked down 
his garden; and, as he slowly paced between the 
beds of budding flowers, he thought of many things 
— the traditions of the past struggles for freedom, 
and the irritating wrongs that had embittered his 
own experience for ten years. There was plenty of 
life yet in the spirit his fathers had bequeathed to 


TURNING WESTWARD 


309 

him; and, as this and that memory of wrong smote 
it, the soul-fire kindled, glowed, burned with pas- 
sionate flame. ‘Tree, God gave us this fair land, 
and we will keep it free. There has been in it no 
crowns and sceptres, no bloody Philips, no priestly 
courts of cruelty ; and, in God’s name, we will have 
none !” 

He was standing on the river-bank; and the 
meadows over it were green and fair to see, and 
the fresh wind blew into his soul a thought of its 
own untrammeled liberty. He looked up and down 
the river, and lifted his face to the clear sky, and 
said aloud: “Beautiful land! To be thy children 
we should not deserve, if one inch of thy soil we 
yielded to a tyrant. Truly a vaderland to me and to 
mine thou hast been. Truly do I love thee.” And 
then, his soul being moved to its highest mark, he 
answered it tenderly, in the strong-syllabled mother- 
tongue that it knew so well : 

“Indien ik u vergeet, o Vaderland! zoo vergete 
mijne regter-hand zich zelve !” ^ 

Such communion he held with himself until the 
night came on, and the dew began to fall ; and Lys- 
bet said to herself : “I will walk down the garden : 
perhaps there is something I can say to him.” As 
she rose, Joris entered, and they met in the centre 
of the room. He put his large hands upon her 
shoulders, and, looking solemnly in her face, said : 
“My Lysbet, I will go with the people : I will give 

> If I forget thee, O Fatherland I let my right hand forget her cunning.— 
/V. cxxxvii. 5. 


310 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

myself willingly to the cause of freedom. A long 
battle is it. Two hundred years ago, a Joris Van 
Heemskirk was fighting in it. Not less of man than 
he was, am I, I hope.'’ 

There was a mist of tears over his eyes — a mist 
that was no dishonor : it only showed that the cost 
had been fully counted, and his allegiance given 
with a clear estimate of the value and sweetness of 
all that he might have to give with it. Lysbet was 
a little awed by the solemnity of his manner. She 
had not before understood the grandeur of such a 
complete surrender of self as her husband had just 
consummated. But never had she been so proud of 
him. Everything commonplace had slipped away: 
he looked taller, younger, handsomer. She dropped 
her knitting to her feet, she put her arms around his 
neck, and, laying her head upon his breast, said 
softly: ‘‘My good Joris! I will love thee forever.” 

In a few minutes Elder Semple came in. He 
looked exceedingly worried; and, although Joris 
and he avoided politics by a kind of tacit agree- 
ment, he could not keep to kirk and commercial 
matters, but constantly returned to one subject — a 
vessel lying at Murray’s Wharf, which had sold her 
cargo of molasses and rum to the “Committee of 
Safety.” 

“And we’ll be haeing the custom-house about 
the city’s ears, if there’s ‘safety’ in that — the born 
idiots,” he said. 

Joris was in that grandly purposeful mood that 
takes no heed of fretful worries. He let the elder 


TURNING WESTWARD 


311 

drift from one grievance to another; and he was just 
in the middle of a sentence containing his opinion of 
Sears and Willet, when Bram’s entrance arrested it. 
There was something in the young man’s face and 
attitude which made every one turn to him. He 
walked straight to the side of Joris : 

“Father, we have closed his Majesty’s custom- 
house forever.” 

*We! Who, then, Bram?” 

“The Committee of Safety and the Sons of 
Liberty.” 

Semple rose to his feet, trembling with passion. 
“Let me tell you, then, Bram, you are a parcel o’ 
rogues and rebels; and, if I were his Majesty, I’d 
gibbet the last ane o’ you.” 

“Patience, elder. Sit down. I’ll speak — ” 

“No, councilor. I’ll no sit down until I ken what 
kind o’ men I’m sitting wi’. Oot wi’ your maist 
secret thoughts. Wha are you for ?” 

“For the people and for freedom, am I,” said 
Joris, calmly rising to his feet. “Too long have 
we borne injustice. My fathers would have spoken 
by the sword before this. Free kirk, free State, 
free commerce, are the breath of our nostrils. 
Not a king on earth our privileges and rights 
shall touch; no, not with his finger-tips. Bram, 
my son, I am your comrade in this quarrel.” He 
spoke with fervent, but not rapid speech, and with 
a firm, round voice, full of magical sympathies. 

“I’ll hear nae mair o’ such folly. — Gie me my 
bonnet and plaid, madam, and Fll be going. — The 


312 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

King o’ England needna ask his Dutch subjects for 
leave to wear his crown, I’m thinking.” 

*^Subjects!” said Bram, flashing up. ‘‘Subjec- 
tion! Well, then, elder, Dutchmen don't under- 
stand the word. Spain found that out.” 

“Hoots! dinna look sae far back, Bram. It’s a 
far cry to Alva and Philip. Hae you naething 
fresher? Gude night, a’. I hope the morn will 
bring you a measure o’ common sense.” He was 
at the door as he spoke; but, ere he passed it, he 
lifted his bonnet above his head and said : “God 
save the king! God save His gracious Majesty, 
George of England !” 

Joris turned to his son. To shut up the king’s 
customs was an overt act of treason. Bram, then, 
had fully committed himself ; and, following out his 
own thoughts, he asked abruptly, “What will come 
of it, Bram ?” 

“War will come, and liberty — a great common- 
wealth, a great country.” 

“It was about the sloop at Murray’s Wharf?” 

“Yes. To the Committee of Safety her cargo 
she sold; but Collector Cruger would not that it 
should leave the vessel, although offered was the 
full duty.” 

“For use against the king were the goods; then 
Cruger, as a servant of King George, did right.” 

“Oh, but if a tyrant a man serves, we can not 
suffer wrong that a good servant he may be ! King 
George through him refused the duty: no more 
duties will we offer him. We have boarded up the 


TURNING WESTWARD 


313 

doors and windows of the custom-house. Collector 
Cruger has a long holiday.’’ 

He did not speak lightly, and his air was that of 
a man who accepts a grave responsibility. met 
Sears and about thirty men with him on Wall Street. 
I went with them, thinking well on what I was 
going to do. I am ready by the deed to stand.” 

‘‘And I with thee. Good night, Bram. To- 
morrow there will be more to say.” 

Then Bram drew his chair to the hearth, and 
his mother began to question him ; and her fine face 
grew finer as she listened to the details of the ex- 
ploit. Bram looked at her proudly. “I wish only 
that a fort full of soldiers and cannon it had been,” 
he said. “It does not seem such a fine thing to take 
a few barrels of rum and molasses.” 

“Every common thing is a fine thing when it is 
for justice. And a fine thing I think it was for 
these men to lay down every one his work and his 
tool, and quietly and orderly go do the work that 
was to be done for honor and for freedom. If there 
had been flying colors and beating drums, and much 
blood spilt, no grander thing would it have been, I 
think.” 

And, as Bram filled and lighted his pipe, he 
hummed softly the rallying song of the day: 

“ ‘In story we’re told 
How our fathers of old 
Braved the rage of the winds and the waves; 

And crossed the deep o’er, 

For this far-away shore, 

All because they would never be slaves, — brave boys! 

All because they would never be slaves. 


314 the bow of orange RIBBON 

“ ‘The birthright we hold 
Shall never be sold. 

But sacred maintained to our graves; 

And before we comply 
We will gallantly die 

For we will not, we will not be slaves, — ^brave boys! 

For we will not, we will not be slaves.’ ” 

In the mean time Semple, fuming and ejaculat- 
ing, was making his way slowly home. It was a 
dark night, and the road full of treacherous soft 
places, fatal to that spotless condition of hose and 
shoes which was one of his weak points. However, 
before he had gone very far, he was overtaken by 
his son Neil, now a very staid and stately gentle- 
man, holding under the Government a high legal 
position in the investigation of the disputed New 
Hampshire grants. 

He listened respectfully to his father’s animad- 
versions on the folly of the Van Heemskirks; but 
he was thinking mainly of the first news told him — 
the early return of Katherine. He was conscious 
that he still loved Katherine, and that he still hated 
Hyde. As they approached the house, the elder saw 
the gleam of a candle through the drawn blind ; and 
he asked querulously, “What’s your mother doing 
wi’ a candle at this hour, I wonder ?” 

“She’ll be sewing or reading, father.” 

“Hoots! she should ay mak’ the wark and the 
hour suit. There’s spinning and knitting for the 
night-time. Wi’ soldiers quartered to the right 
hand and the left hand, and a civil war staring us 
in the face, it’s neither tallow nor wax we’ll hae 
to spare.” 


TURNING WESTWARD 315 

He was climbing the pipe-clayed steps as he spoke, 
and in a few minutes was standing face to face with 
the offender. Madam Semple was reading; and, as 
her husband opened the parlor door, she lifted her 
eyes from her book, and let them calmly rest upon 
him. 

“Fire-light and candle-light, baith, Janet ! A fair il- 
lumination, and nae ither thing but bad news for it.” 

“Fm reading the Word, elder.” 

“For the night season, meditation, Janet, medi- 
tation;” and he lifted the extinguisher, and put out 
the candle. “Meditate on what you hae read. The 
Word will bide a deal o’ thinking about. You’ll hae 
heard the ill news?” 

“I heard naething ill.” 

“Didna Neil tell you?” 

“Anent what?” 

“The closing o’ the king’s customs.” 

“Ay, Neil told me.” 

“Weel?” 

“Weel, since you ask me, I say it was gude news.” 

“Noo, Janet, we’ll hae to come to an understand- 
ing. If I hae swithered in my loyalty before. I’ll 
do sae nae main From this hour, me and my house 
will serve King George. I’ll hae nae treason done 
in it, nor said; no, nor even thocht o’.” 

“You’ll be a vera Samson o’ strength, and a vera 
Solomon o’ wisdom, if you keep the hands and the 
tongues and the thochts o’ this house. Whiles, you 
canna vera weel keep the door o’ your ain mouth, 
gudeman. What’s come o’er you, at a’ ?” 


3i6 the bow of orange RIBBON 

“I’m surely master in my ain house, Janet.” 

“ ’Deed, you are far from being that, Alexander 
Semple. Doesna King George quarter his men in 
it ? And havena you to feed’ and shelter them, and 
to thole their ill tempers and their ill ways, morn- 
ing, noon, and night? You master in your ain 
house ! You’re just a naebody in it !” 

“Dinna get on your high horse, madam. Things 
are coming to the upshot : there’s nae doot o’ it.” 

“They’ve been lang aboot it — too lang.” 

“Do you really mean that you are going to set 
yoursel’ among the rebels?” 

*'Goingf Na, na; I have ay been amang them. 
And ten years syne, when the Stamp Act was the 
question, you were heart and soul wi’ the people. 
The quarrel to-day is the same quarrel wi’ a new 
name. Tak’ the side o’ honor and manhood and 
justice, and dinna mak’ me ashamed o’ you, Alex- 
ander. The Semples have ay been for freedom — 
Kirk and State — and I never heard tell o’ them los- 
ing a chance to gie them proud English a set-down 
before. What for should you gie the lie to a’ your 
forbears said and did? King George hasna put his 
hand in his pocket for you; he has done naething 
but tax your incomings and your outgoings. Ask 
Van Heemskirk: he’s a prudent man, and you’ll 
never go far wrong if you walk wi’ him.” 

“Ask Van Heemskirk, indeed! Not I. The re- 
bellious spirit o’ the ten tribes is through all the 
land ; but I’ll stand by King George, if I’m the only 
man to do it.” 


TURNING WESTWARD 


317 

‘‘George may be king o’ the Semples. I’m a Gor- 
don. He’s no king o’ mine. The Gordons were a’ 
for the Stuarts.” 

“Jacobite and traitor, baith! Janet, Janet, how 
can you turn against me on every hand ?” 

“I’ll no turn against you, elder; and I’ll gie 
you no cause for complaint, if you dinna set King 
George on my hearthstone, and bring him to my 
table, and fling him at me early and late.” She 
was going to light the candle again; and, with it 
in her hand, she continued: “That’s enough anent 
George rex at night-time, for he isna a pleasant 
thought for a sleeping one. How is Van Heems- 
kirk going? And Bram?” 

“Bram was wi’ them that unloaded the schooner, 
and closed the custom-house — the born idiots !” 

“I expected that o’ Bram.” 

“As for his father, he’s the blackest rebel you 
could find or hear tell o’ in the twelve provinces.” 

“He’s a good man ; Joris is a good man, true and 
sure. The cause he lifts, he’ll never leave. Joris 
and Bram — excellent! They two are a multitude.” 

“Humff!” It was all he could say. There was 
something in his wife’s face that made it look un- 
familiar to him. He felt himself to be like the 
prophet of Pethor — a man whose eyes are opened. 
But Elder Semple was not one of the foolish ones 
who waste words. “A wilfu’ woman will hae her 
way,” he thought; “and, if Janet has turned rebel 
to the king, it’s mair than likely she’ll throw off my 
ain lawfu’ authority likewise. But we’ll see, we’ll 


3i8 the bow of orange RIBBON 

see,” he muttered, glancing with angry determina- 
tion at the little woman, who, for her part, seemed 
to have put quite away all thoughts of king and 
Congress. 

She stood with the tinder-box and the flint and 
brimstone matches in her hands. ‘'I wonder if the 
tinder is burnt enough, Alexander,” she said; and 
with the words she sharply struck the flint. A 
spark fell instantly and set fire to it, and she lit her 
match and watched it blaze with a singular look of 
triumph on her face. Somehow the trifling affair 
irritated the elder. ‘‘What are you doing at a’? 
You’re acting like a silly bairn, makin’ a blaze for 
naething. There’s a fire on the hearth : whatna for, 
then, are you wasting tinder and a match?” 

“Maybe it wasna for naething, elder. Maybe I 
was asking for a sign, and got the ane I wanted. 
There’s nae sin in that, I hope. You ken Gideon 
did it when he had to stand up for the oppressed, 
and slay the tyrant.” 

“Tut, woman, you arena Gideon, nor yet o’ 
Gideon’s kind ; and, forbye, there’s nae angel speak- 
ing wi’ you.” 

“You’re right there, elder. But, for a’ that. I’m 
glad that the spark fired the tinder, and that the 
tinder lit the match, and that the match burnt sae 
bright and sae bravely. It has made a glow in my 
heart, and I’ll sleep well wi’ the pleasure o’ it.” 

Next morning the argument was not renewed. 
Neil was sombre and silent. His father was un- 
certain as to his views, and he did not want to 


TURNING WESTWARD 


319 

force or hurry a decision. Besides, it would evi- 
dently be more prudent to speak with the young 
man when he could not be influenced by his mother's 
wilful, scornful tongue. Perhaps Neil shared this 
prudent feeling; for he deprecated conversation, 
and, on the plea of business, left the breakfast- 
table before the meal was finished. 

The elder, however, had some indemnification 
for his cautious silence. He permitted himself, at 
family prayers, a very marked reading of St. Paul’s 
injunction, “Fear God and honor the king” ; and ere 
he left the house he said to his wife, “Janet, I hope 
you hae come to your senses. You’ll allow that you 
didna treat me wi’ a proper respect yest’reen?” 

She was standing face to face with him, her 
hands uplifted, fastening the broad silver clasp of 
his cloak. For a moment she hesitated, the next 
she raised herself on tiptoes, and kissed him. He 
pursed up his mouth a little sternly, and then stroked 
her white hair. “You heard what St. Paul says, 
Janet; isna that a settlement o’ the question?” 

“I’m no blaming St. Paul, Alexander. If ever 
St. Paul approves o’ submitting to tyranny, it’s 
thae translator’s fault. He wouldna tak’ injustice 
himsel’, not even from a Roman magistrate. I wish 
St. Paul was alive the day : I’m vera sure if he were, 
he’d write an epistle to the English, wad put the 
king’s dues just as free men would be willing to 
pay them. Now, don’t be angry, Alexander. If 
you go awa’ angry at me, you’ll hae a bad day ; you 
ken that, gudeman.” 


320 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

It was a subtle plea; for no man, however wise 
or good or brave, likes to bespeak ill-fortune when 
it can be averted by a sacrifice so easy and so pleas- 
ant. But, in spite of Janet’s kiss, he was unhappy; 
and, when he reached the store, the clerks and por- 
ters were all standing together talking. He knew 
quite well what topic they were discussing with such 
eager movements and excited speech. But they dis- 
persed to their work at the sight of his sour, stern 
face, and he did not intend to open a fresh dispute 
by any question. 

Apprentices and clerks then showed a great deal 
of deference to their masters, and Elder Semple de- 
manded the full measure due to him. Something, 
however, in the carriage, in the faces, in the very 
tones of his servants’ voices offended him; and he 
soon discovered that various small duties had been 
neglected. 

‘‘Listen to me, lads,” he said angrily; “I’ll have 
nae politics mixed up wi’ my exports and imports. 
Neither king nor congress has aught to do wi’ my 
business; and if there is among you ane o’ them 
fools that ca’ themselves the ‘Sons o’ Liberty,’ I’ll 
pay him whatever I owe him now, and he can gang 
to Madam Liberty for his future wage.” 

He was standing on the step of his high count- 
ing-desk as he spoke, and he peered over the little 
wooden railing at the men scattered about with pens 
or hammers or goods in their hands. There was 
a moment’s silence ; then a middle-aged man quietly 
laid down the tools with which he was closing a 


TURNING WESTWARD 


321 


box, and walked up to the desk. The next moment 
every one in the place had followed him. Semple 
was amazed and angry, but he made no sign of 
either emotion. He counted to the most accurate 
fraction every one’s due, and let them go without 
one word of remonstrance. 

But, as soon as he was alone, he felt the full 
bitterness of their desertion, and he could not keep 
the tears out of his eyes as he looked at their empty 
places. “Wha could hae thocht it?” he exclaimed. 
‘‘Allan has been wi’ me twenty-seven years, and 
Scott twenty, and Grey nearly seventeen. And the 
lads I have ay been kindly to. Maist o’ them have 
wives and bairns, too; it’s just a sin o’ them. It’s 
no to be believed. It’s fair witchcraft. And the 
pride o’ them ! My certie, they all looked as if their 
hands were itching for a sword or a pair o’ pistols !” 

At this juncture Neil entered the store. “Here’s 
a bonnie pass, Neil; every man has left the store. 
I may as weel put up the shutters.” 

“There are other men to be hired.” 

“They were maistly a’ auld standbys, auld mar- 
ried men that ought to have had mair sense.” 

“The married men are the trouble-makers; the 
women have hatched and nursed this rebellion. If 
they would only spin their webs, and mind their 
knitting !” 

“But they willna, Neil; and they never would. 
If there’s a pot o’ rebellion brewing between the 
twa poles, women will be dabbling in it. They 
have ay been against lawfu’ authority. The re- 


322 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

straints o' paradise was tyranny to them. And they 
get worse and worse: it isna ane apple would do 
them the noo; they’d strip the tree, my lad, to its 
very topmost branch.” 

'There’s mother — ” 

"Ay, there’s your mother, she’s a gude example. 
She’s a Gordon; and thae Gordon women cried the 
^slogan^ till their men’s heads were a’ on Carlisle 
gate or Temple Bar, and their lands a’ under King 
George’s thumb. But is she any wiser for the les- 
son ? Not her. Women are born rebels ; the 'powers 
that be’ are always tyrants to them, Neil.” 

"You ought to know, father. I have small and 
sad experience with them.” 

"Sae, I hope you’ll stand by my side. We twa 
can keep the house thegither. If we are a’ right, the 
Government will whistle by a woman’s talk.” 

"Did you not say Katherine was coming back?” 

'T did that. See there, again. Hyde has dropped 
his uniform, and sold a’ that he has, and is coming 
to fight in a quarrel that’s nane o’ his. Heard you 
ever such foolishness? But it is Katherine’s doing; 
there’s little doot o’ that.” 

"He’s turned rebel, then?” 

"Ay has he. That’s what women do. Politics 
and rebellion is the same thing to them.” 

"Well, father, I shall not turn rebel.” 

"Oh, Neil, you take a load off my heart by thae 
words !” 

"I have nothing against the king, and I could not 
be Hyde’s comrade.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


FOR freedom’s sake 


“How glorious stand the valiant, sword in hand, 

In front of battle for their native land !” 

“Force and right rule all things in the world; force arrives 
first, then right.” 

“Justice is truth in action.” 

I T was into this thundery atmosphere of coming 
conflict, of hopes and doubts, of sundering ties 
and fearful looking forward, that Richard and Kath- 
erine Hyde came, from the idyllic peace and beauty 
of their Norfolk house. But there was something 
in it that fitted Hyde’s real disposition. He was a 
natural soldier, and he had arrived at the period of 
life when the mere show and pomp of the profes- 
sion had lost all satisfying charm. He had found 
a quarrel worthy of his sword, one that had not 
only his deliberate approval, but his passionate sym- 
pathy. In fact, his first blow for American inde- 
pendence had been struck in the duel with Lord 
Paget; for that quarrel, though nominally concern- 
ing Lady Suffolk, was grounded upon a dislike 
engendered by their antagonism regarding the gov- 
ernment of the Colonies. 

It was an exquisite April morning when they 
323 


324 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

sailed up New York Bay once more. Joris had 
been watching for the ‘‘Western Light” ; and, when 
she came to anchor at Murray’s Wharf, his was the 
foremost figure on it. He had grown a little stouter, 
but was still a splendid-looking man ; he had grown 
a little older, but his tenderness for his daughter 
was still young and fresh and strong as ever. He 
took her in his arms, murmuring, ''Mijn Katrijntje, 
mijn Katrijntje! Ach, mijn kind, mijn kind!” 

Hyde had felt that there might be some embar- 
rassment in his own case, perhaps some explanation 
or acknowledgment to make; but Joris waved aside 
any speech like it. He gave Hyde both hands; he 
called him '‘mijn soon”; he stooped, and put the 
little lad’s arms around his neck. In many a kind 
and delicate way he made them feel that all of the 
past was forgotten but its sweetness. 

And surely that hour Lysbet had the reward of 
her faithful affection. She had always admired 
Hyde; and she was proud and happy to have him 
in her home, and to have him call her “mother.” 
The little Joris took possession of her heart in a 
moment. Her Katherine was again at her side. She 
had felt the clasp of her hands; she had heard her 
whisper "mijn moede'F^ upon her lips. 

They landed upon a Saturday, upon one of those 
delightsome days that April frequently gives to 
New York. There was a fresh wind, full of the 
smell of the earth and the sea; an intensely blue 
sky, with flying battalions of white fleecy clouds 
across it; a glorious sunshine above everything. 


FOR FREEDOM’S SAKE 


325 

And people live, and live happily, even in the 
shadow of war. The stores were full of buyers 
and sellers. The doors and windows of the houses 
were open to the spring freshness. Lysbet had 
heard of their arrival, and was watching for them. 
Her hair was a little whiter, her figure a little 
stouter ; but her face was fair and rosy, and sweet 
as ever. 

In a few hours things had fallen naturally and 
easily into place. Joris and Bram and Hyde sat 
talking of the formation of a regiment. Little Joris 
leaned on his grandfather’s shoulder, listening. 
Lysbet and Katherine were unpacking trunks full 
of fineries and pretty things; occasionally stopping 
to give instructions to Dinorah, who was prepar- 
ing an extra tea, as Batavius and Joanna were com- 
ing to spend the evening. ‘‘And to the elder and 
Janet Semple I have sent a message, also,” said 
Lysbet; “for I see not why anger should be nursed, 
or old friendships broken, for politics.” 

Katherine had asked at once, with eager love, 
for Joanna; she had expected that she would be 
waiting to welcome her. Lysbet smiled faintly at 
the supposition. “She has a large family, then, and 
Batavius, and her house. Seldom comes she here 
now.” 

But about four o’clock, as Katherine and Hyde 
were dressing, Joanna and Batavius and all their 
family arrived. In a moment, their presence seemed 
to diffuse itself through the house. There was a 
sense of confusion and unrest, and the loud crying 


326 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

of a hungry baby determined to be attended to. And 
Joanna was fulfilling this duty when Katherine hast- 
ened to meet her. Wifehood and motherhood had 
greatly altered the slim, fair girl of ten years pre- 
vious. She had grown stout, and was untidy in 
her dress, and a worried, anxious expression was 
continually on her countenance; for, though Bata- 
vius kept an eye on the children, there were five of 
them beside the baby — fat, rosy, round-faced minia- 
tures of himself, all having a fair share of his pecul- 
iar selfish traits, which each expressed after their 
individual fashion. 

Hyde met his brother-in-law with a gentlemanly 
cordiality; and Batavius, who had told Joanna ‘^he 
intended to put down a bit that insolent English- 
man,” was quite taken off his guard, and, ere he 
was aware of his submission, was smoking amicably 
with him, as they discussed the proposed military 
organization. Very soon Hyde asked Batavius, ‘'If 
he were willing to join it?” 

“When such a family a man has,” he answered, 
waving his hand complacently toward the six chil- 
dren, “he must have some prudence and considera- 
tion. I had been well content with one child; but 
we must have our number, there is no remedy. And 
I am a householder, and I pay my way, and do my 
business. It is a fixed principle with me, not to 
meddle with the business of other people.” 

“But, sir, this is your business, and your chil- 
dren's business also.” 

“I think, then, that it is King George’s business.” 


POR PREEDOM^S SAKE 


3^7 


‘It is liberty — ” 

“Well, then, I have my liberty. I have liberty 
to buy and to sell, to go to my own kirk, to sail the 
‘Great Christopher’ when and where I will. My 
house, my wife, my little children, nobody has 
touched.” 

“Pray, sir, what of your rights? Your 
honor ?” 

“Qh, indeed, then, for ideas I quarrel not! Facts, 
they are different. Every man has his own creed, 
and every man his own liberty, so say I. — Come 
here, Alida,” and he waved his hand imperiously 
to a little woman of four years old, who was sulk- 
ing at the window, “what’s the matter now? You 
have been crying again. I see that you have a dis- 
contented temper. There is a spot on your petticoat 
also, and your cap is awry. I fear that you will 
never become a neat, respectable girl — you that 
ought to set a good pattern to your little sister 
Femmetia.” 

Evidently he wished to turn the current of the 
conversation; but, as soon as the child had been 
sent to her mother, Joris resumed it. 

“If you go not yourself to the fight, Batavius, 
plenty of young men are there, longing to go, who 
have no arms and no clothes : send in your place one 
of them.” 

“It is my fixed principle not to meddle in the 
affairs of other people, and my principles are sacred 
to me.” 

“Batavius, you said not long ago that the colo- 


328 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

nists were leaving the old ship, and that the first in 
the new boat would have the choice of oars.” 

'‘Bram, that is the truth. I said not that I would 
choose any of the oars.” 

“A fair harbor we shall make, and the rewards 
will be great, Batavius.” 

“It is not good to cry ^herrings’ till in the net 
you have them. And to talk of rowing, the colo- 
nists must row against wind and tide; the English 
will row with set sail. That is easy rowing. Into 
this question I have looked well, for always I think 
about everything.” 

“Have you read the speeches of Adams and Han- 
cock and Quincy? Have you heard what Colonel 
Washington said in the Assembly?” 

“Oh, these men are discontented! Something 
which they have not got, they want. They are 
troublesome and conceited. They expect the cen- 
tury will be called after them. Now, I, who punc- 
tually fulfil my obligations as a father and a citizen, 
I am contented, I never make complaints, I never 
want more liberty. You may read in the Holy 
Scriptures that no good comes of rebellion. Did 
not Absalom sit in the gate, and say to the discon- 
tented, ‘See, thy matters are good and right; but 
there is no man deputed of the king to hear thee 
and, moreover, ‘Oh, that I were made a judge in 
the land, that every man which hath any suit or 
cause might come unto me, and I would do him 
justice’? And did not Sheba blow a trumpet, and 
say, ‘We have no part in David, neither have we 


FOR FREEDOM'S SAKE 


329 


inheritance in the son of Jesse. Every man to his 
tents, O Israel’? Well, then, what came of such 
follies? You may read in the Word of God that 
they ended in ruin.” 

Hyde looked with curiosity at the complacent 
orator. Bram rose, and, with a long-drawn whistle, 
left the room. Joris said sternly: “Enough you 
have spoken, Batavius. None are so blind as those 
who will not see.” 

“Well, then, father, I can see what is in the way 
of mine own business; and it is a fixed principle 
with me not to meddle with the business of other 
people. And look here, Joanna, the night is com- 
ing, and the dew with it, and Alida had a sore 
throat yesterday: we had better go. Fast in sleep 
the children ought to be at this hour.” And he 
bustled about them, tying on caps and capes; and 
finally, having marshaled the six children and their 
two nurses in front of him, he trotted off with 
Joanna upon his arm, fully persuaded that he had 
done himself great credit, and acted with uncom- 
mon wisdom. “But it belongs to me to do that, 
Joanna,” he said : “among all the merchants, I am 
known for my great prudence.” 

“I think that my father and Bram will get into 
trouble in this matter.” 

“You took the word out of my mouth, Joanna; 
and I will have nothing to do with such follies, for 
they are waxing hand over hand like the great 
winds at sea, till the hurricane comes, and then the 
ruin.” 


330 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

The next morning was the Sabbath, and it broke 
in a perfect splendor of sunshine. The New World 
was so new and fresh, and Katherine thought she 
had never before seen the garden so lovely. Joris 
was abroad in it very early. He looked at the 
gay crocus and the pale snowdrop and the budding 
pansies with a singular affection. He was going, 
perchance, on a long warfare. Would he ever re- 
turn to greet them in the coming springs? If he 
did return, would they be there to greet him? As 
he stood pensively thoughtful, Katherine called him. 
He raised his eyes, and watched her approach as he 
had been used when she was a child, a schoolgirl, a 
lovely maiden. But never had she been so beautiful 
as now. She was dressed for church in a gown of 
rich brown brocade over a petticoat of paler satin, 
with costly ornaments of gold and rubies. As she 
joined her father, Hyde joined Lysbet in the parlor; 
and the two stood at the window watching her. 
She had clasped her hands upon his shoulder, and 
leaned her beautiful head against them. “A most 
perfect picture,’’ said Hyde, and then he kissed 
Lysbet; and from that moment they were mother 
and son. 

They walked to church together ; and Hyde 
thought how beautiful the pleasant city was that 
Sabbath morning, with its pretty houses shaded by 
trees just turning green, its clear air full of the 
grave, dilating harmony of the church-bells, its quiet 
streets thronged with men and women — both sexes 
dressed with a magnificence modern Broadway 


FOR FREEDOM'S SAKE 


331 


beaux and belles have nothing to compare with. 
What staid, dignified men in three-cornered hats 
and embroidered velvet coats and long plush vests! 
What buckles and wigs and lace ruffles and gold 
snuff-boxes! What beautiful women in brocades 
and taffetas, in hoops and high heels and gauze 
hats! Here and there a black-robed dominie; here 
and there a splendidly dressed British officer, in 
scarlet and white, and gold epaulets and silver em- 
broideries! New York has always been a highly 
picturesque city, but never more so than in the rest- 
less days of a. d. 1775. 

Katherine and Hyde and Bram were together; 
Joris and Lysbet were slowly following them. They 
were none of them speaking much, nor thinking 
much, but all were very happy and full of content. 
Suddenly the peaceful atmosphere was troubled by 
the startling clamor of a trumpet. It was a note so 
distinct from the music of the bells, so full of ter- 
ror and warning, that every one stood still. A 
second blast was accompanied by the rapid beat of 
a horse's hoofs ; and the rider came down Broadway 
like one on a message of life and death, and made 
no pause until he had very nearly reached Maiden 
Lane. 

At that point a tall, muscular man seized the 
horse by the bridle, and asked : 

“What news?” 

“Great news ! great news ! There has been a bat- 
tle, a massacre at Lexington, a running fight from 
Concord to Boston! Stay me not!” But, as he 


332 " THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

shook the bridle free, he threw a handbill, con- 
taining the official account of the affair at Lexing- 
ton, to the inquirer. 

Who then thought of church, though the church- 
bells were ringing? The crowd gathered around 
the man with the handbill, and in ominous silence 
listened to the tidings of the massacre at Lexington, 
the destruction of stores at Concord, the quick gath- 
ering of the militia from the hills and dales around 
Reading and Roxbury, the retreat of the British 
under their harassing fire, until, worn out and dis- 
organized, they had found a refuge in Boston. 
‘‘And this is the postscript at the last moment,” 
added the reader : “ ‘Men are pouring in from all 
the country sides; Putnam left his plow in the fur- 
row, and rode night and day to the ground ; Heath, 
also, is with him.' ” 

Joris was white and stern in his emotion; Bram 
stood by the reader, with a face as bright as a 
bridegroom’s ; Hyde’s lips were drawn tight, and his 
eyes flashing with the true military flame. “Father,” 
he said, “take mother and Katherine to church; 
Bram and I will stay here, for I can see that there 
is something to be done.” 

“God help us! Yes, I will go to Him first;” and, 
taking his wife and daughter, he passed with them 
out of the crowd. 

Hyde turned to the reader, who stood with bent 
brows, and the paper in his hand. “Well, sir, what 
is to be done?” he asked. 

“There are five hundred stand of arms in the City 


FOR FREEDOM'S SAKE 


333 

Hall ; there are men enough here to take them. Let 
us go.” 

A loud cry of assent answered him. 

“My name is Richard Hyde, late of his Majesty's 
'Windsor Guards'; but I am with you, heart and 
soul.'' 

“I am Marinus Willet.” 

“Then, Mr. Willet, where first?” 

“To the mayor's residence. He has the keys of 
the room in which the arms are kept.” 

The news spread, no one knew how; but men 
poured out from the churches and the houses on 
their route, and Willet's force was soon nearly a 
thousand strong. The tumult, the tread, the animus 
of the gathering, was felt in that part of the city 
even where it could not be heard. Joris could 
hardly endure the suspense, and the service did him 
very little good. About two o’clock, as he was 
walking restlessly about the house, Bram and Hyde 
returned together. 

“Well?” he asked. 

“There were five hundred stand of arms in the 
City Hall, and I swear that we have taken them all. 
A man called Willet led us ; a hero, quick of thought, 
prompt and daring — a true soldier.” 

“I know him well ; a good man.” 

“The keys the mayor refused to us,” said Bram. 

“Oh, sir, he lied to us! Vowed he did not have 
them, and sent us to the armorer in Crown Street. 
The armorer vowed that he had given them to the 
mayor.” 


334 the bow of ORANGE RIBBON 

‘What then?’’ 

“Oh, indeed, all fortune fitted us! We went en 
masse down Broadway into Wall Street, and so to 
the City Hall. Here some one, with too nice a sense 
of the Sabbath, objected to breaking open the doors 
because of the day. But with very proper spirit 
Willet replied: ‘If we wait until to-morrow, the 
king’s men will not wait. The arms will be re- 
moved. And as for a key, here is one that will open 
any lock.” As he said the words, he swung a great 
ax around his head; and so, with a few blows, he 
made us an entrance. Indeed, I think that he is a 
grand fellow.” 

“And you got the arms ?” 

“Faith, we got all we went for! The arms were 
divided among the people. There was a drum and 
fife also found with them, and some one made us 
very excellent music to step to. As we returned up 
Broadway, the congregation were just coming out 
of Trinity. Upon my word, I think we frightened 
them a little.” 

“Where were the English soldiers?” 

“Indeed, they were shut up in barracks. Some 
of their officers were in church, others waiting for 
orders from the governor or mayor. ’Tis to be 
found out where the governor might be ; the mayor 
was frightened beyond everything, and not capable 
of giving an order. Had my uncle Gordon been 
still in command here, he had not been so patient.” 

“And for you that would have been a hard case.” 

“Upon my word, I would not have fought my 


FOR FREEDOM’S SAKE 


335 

old comrades. I am glad, then, that they are in 
Quebec. Our swords will scarce reach so far.” 
“And where went you with the arms?” 

“To a room in John Street. There they were 
stacked, the names of the men enrolled, and a guard 
placed over them. Bram is on the night patrol, by 
his own request. As for me, I have the honor of 
assisting New York in her first act of rebellion; and, 
if the military superstition be a true one, ^A Sunday 
fight is a lucky fight.' — And now, mother, we will 
have some dinner : ^the soldier loves his mess.’ ” 
Every one was watching him with admiration. 
Never in his uniform had he appeared so like a sol- 
dier as he did at that hour in his citizen coat and 
breeches of wine-colored velvet, his black silk stock- 
ings, and gold buckled shoes. His spirits were 
infectious : Bram had already come into thorough 
sympathy with him, and grown almost gay in his 
company; Joris felt his heart beat to the joy and 
hope in his young comrades. All alike had recog- 
nized that the fight was inevitable, and that it would 
be well done if it were soon done. 

But events can not be driven by wishes; many 
thingfs had to be settled before a movement forward 
could be made. Joris had his store to let, and the 
stock and good-will to dispose of. Horses and ac- 
coutrements must be bought, uniforms made; and 
every day this charge increased : for, as soon as 
Van Heemskirk’s intention to go to the front was 
known, a large number of young men from the best 
Dutch families were eager to enlist under him. 


336 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

Hyde’s time was spent as a recruiting-officer. His 
old quarters, the ‘‘King’s Arms,” were of course 
closed to him; but there was a famous tavern on 
Water Street, shaded by a great horse-chestnut tree, 
and there the patriots were always welcome. There, 
also, the news of all political events was in some 
mysterious way sure to be first received. In com- 
pany with Willet, Sears, and McDougall, Hyde 
might be seen under the chestnut tree every day, 
enlisting men, or organizing the “Liberty Regi- 
ment” then raising. 

From the first, his valorous temper, his singleness 
of purpose, his military skill in handling troops, and 
his fine appearance and manners, had given him in- 
fluence and authority. He soon, also, gained a 
wonderful power over Bram; and even the tem- 
perate wisdom and fine patience of Joris gradually 
kindled, until the man was at white heat all through. 
Every day’s events fanned the temper of the city, 
although it was soon evident that the first fighting 
would be done in the vicinity of Boston. 

For, three weeks after that memorable April Sun- 
day, Congress, in session at Philadelphia, had rec- 
ognized the men in camp there as a Continental 
army, the nucleus of the troops that were to be 
raised for the defense of the country, and had com- 
missioned Colonel Washington as commander-in- 
chief to direct their operations. Then every heart 
was in a state of the greatest expectation and ex- 
citement. No one remembered at that hour that the 
little army was without organization or discipline, 


FOR FREEDOM'S SAKE 


337 


most of its officers incompetent to command, its 
troops altogether unused to obey, and in the field 
without enlistment. Their few pieces of cannon 
were old and of various sizes, and scarce any one 
understood their service. There was no siege-train 
and no ordnance stores. There was no military 
chest, and nothing worthy the name of a commis- 
sariat, Yet every one was sure that some bold 
stroke would be struck, and the war speedily termi- 
nated in victory and independence. 

So New York was in the buoyant spirits of a 
young man rejoicing to run a race. The armorers, 
the saddlers, and the smiths were busy day and 
night; weapons were in every hand, the look of 
apprehended triumph on every face. In June the 
Van Heemskirk troops were ready to leave for Bos- 
ton — nearly six hundred young men, full of pure 
purpose and brave thoughts, and with all their illu- 
sions and enthusiasms undimmed. 

The day before their departure, they escorted Van 
Heemskirk to his house. Lysbet and Katherine saw 
them coming, and fell weeping on each other’s necks 
— tears that were both joyful and sorrowful, the 
expression of mingled love and patriotism and grief. 
It would have been hard to find a nobler looking 
leader than Joris. Age had but added dignity to his 
fine bulk. His large, fair face was serene and con- 
fident. And the bright young lads who followed 
him looked like his sons, for most of them strongly 
resembled him in person; and any one might have 
been sure, even if the roll had not shown it, that 


338 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

they were Van Brunts and Van Ripers and Van 
Rensselaers, Roosevelts, Westervelts, and Terhunes. 

They had a very handsome uniform, and there 
had been no uncertainty or dispute about it. Blue, 
with orange trimmings, carried the question without 
one dissenting voice. Blue had been for centuries 
the color of opposition to tyranny. The Scotch 
Covenanters chose it because the Lord ordered the 
children of Israel to wear a ribbon of blue that they 
might ‘look upon it, and remember all the com- 
mandments of the Lord, and do them ; and seek not 
after their own heart and their own eyes, and be 
holy unto their God.” (Num. xv. 38.) Into their 
cities of refuge in Holland, the Covenanters carried 
their sacred color; and the Dutch Calvinists soon 
blended the blue of their faith with the orange of 
their patriotism. Very early in the American strug- 
gle, blue became the typical color of freedom; and 
when Van Heemskirk’s men chose the blue and 
orange for their uniform, they selected the colors 
which had already been famous on many a battle- 
field of freedom. 

Katherine and Lysbet had made the flag of the 
new regiment — an orange flag, with a cluster of 
twelve blue stars above the word liberty. It was 
Lysbefs hands that gave it to them. They stood 
in a body around the open door of the Van 
Heemskirk house; and the pretty old lady kissed 
it, and handed it with wet eyes to the color-sergeant. 
Katherine stood by Lysbet's side. They were both 
dressed as for a festival, and their faces were full 


FOR FREEDOM’S SAKE 


"339 

of tender love and lofty enthusiasm. To Joris and 
his men they represented the womanhood dear to 
each individual heart. Lysbet’s white hair and 
white cap and pale-tinted face was ‘‘the mother’s 
face”; and Katherine, in her brilliant beauty, her 
smiles and tears, her shining silks and glancing 
jewels, was the lovely substitute for many a pre- 
cious sister and many a darling lady-love. But 
few words were said. Lysbet and Katherine could 
but stand and gaze as heads were bared, and the 
orange folds flung to the wind, and the inspiring 
word liberty saluted with bright, upturned faces and 
a ringing shout of welcome. 

Such a lovely day it was — a perfect June day; 
doors and windows were wide open; a fresh wind 
blowing, a hundred blended scents from the garden 
were in the air; and there was a sunshine that 
warmed everything to the core. If there were tears 
in the hearts of the women, they put them back with 
smiles and hopeful words, and praises of the gallant 
men who were to fight a noble fight under the ban- 
ner their fingers had fashioned. 

It was to be the last evening at home for Joris 
and Brain and Hyde, and everything was done to 
make it a happy memory. The table was laid with 
the best silver and china; all the dainties that the 
three men liked best were prepared for them. The 
room was gay with flowers and blue and orange 
ribbons, and bows of the same colors fluttered at 
Lysbet’s breast and on Katherine’s shoulder. And, 
as they went up and down the house, they were both 


340 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

singing, singing to keep love from weeping, and 
hope and courage from failing; Lysbet’s thin, sweet 
voice seeming like the shadow of Katherine’s clear, 
ringing tones : 

“ ‘Oh for the blue and the orange, 

Oh for the orange and the blue ! 

Orange for men that are free men, 

Blue for men that are true. 

Over the red of the tyrant, 

Bloody and cruel in hue. 

Fling out the banner of orange. 

With pennant and border of blue. 

Orange for men that are free men. 

Blue for men that are true.” 

So they were singing when Joris and his sons 
came home. 

There had been some expectation of Joanna and 
Batavius, but at the last moment an excuse was 
sent. “The child is sick, writes Batavius; but I 
think, then, it is Batavius that is afraid, and not the 
child who is sick,” said Joris. 

“To this side and to that side and to neither side, 
he will go; and he will miss all the good, and get 
all the bad of every side,” said Bram contemptu- 
ously. 

“I think not so, Bram. Batavius can sail with 
the wind. All but his honor and his manhood he 
will save.” 

“That is exactly true,” continued Hyde. “He 
will grow rich upon the spoils of both parties. 
Upon my word, I expect to hear him say : ‘Admire 
my prudence. While you have been fighting for an 


FOR FREEDOM’S SAKE 


341 

idea, I have been making myself some money. It 
is a principle of mine to attend only to my own 
affairs.’ ” 

After supper Bram went to bid a friend good-by; 
and, as Joris and Lysbet sat in the quiet parlor. 
Elder Semple and his wife walked in. The elder 
was sad and still. He took the hands of Joris in 
his own, and looked him steadily in the face. ‘‘Man 
Joris,” he said, “what’s sending you on sic a daft- 
like errand?” 

Joris smiled, and grasped tighter his friend’s 
hand. 

“So glad am I to see you at the last, elder. As 
in you came, I was thinking about you. Let us 
part good friends and brothers. If I come not 
back—” 

“Tut, tut ! You’re sure and certain to come back ; 
and sae I’ll save the quarrel I hae wi’ you until then. 
We’ll hae mair opportunities; and I’ll hae mair 
arguments against you, wi’ every week that passes. 
Joris, you’ll no hae a single word to say for yoursel’ 
then. Sae, I’ll bide my time. I came to speak anent 
things, in case o’ the warst, to tell you that if any 
one wants to touch your wife or your bairns, a brick 
in your house, or a flower in your garden. I’ll stand 
by all that’s yours, to the last shilling I hae, and 
nane shall harm them. Neil and I will baith do all 
men may do. Scotsmen hae lang memories for 
either friend or foe. Oh, Joris, man, if you had 
only had an ounce o’ common wisdom !” 

“I have a friend, then! I have you, Alexander. 


342 THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 

Never this hour shall I regret. If all else I lose, 
I have saved mijn jongen/' ^ 

The old men bent to each other : there were tears 
in their eyes. Without speaking, they were aware 
of kindness and faithfulness and gratitude beyond 
the power of words. They smoked a pipe together, 
and sometimes changed glances and smiles, as they 
looked at, or listened to, Lysbet and Janet Semple, 
who had renewed their long kindness in the sym- 
pathy of their patriotic hopes and fears. 

Hyde and Katherine were walking in the garden, 
lingering in the sweet June twilight by the lilac 
hedge and the river-bank. All Hyde’s business 
was arranged : he was going into the fight without 
any anxiety beyond such as was natural to the cir- 
cumstances. While he was away, his wife and son 
were to remain with Lysbet. He could desire no 
better home for them : their lives would be so quiet 
and orderly, that he could almost tell what they 
would be doing at every hour. And, while he was 
in the din and danger of siege and battle, he felt 
that it would be restful to think of Katherine in 
the still, fair rooms and the sweet garden of her 
first home. 

If he never came back, ample provision had been 
made for his wife and son’s welfare; but — and he 
suddenly turned to Katherine, as if she had been 
conscious of his thoughts — ‘^The war will not last 
very long, dear heart ; and when liberty is won, and 
the foundation for a great commonwealth laid, why 


* My familiar friend. 


FOR FREEDOM'S SAKE 


343 


then we will buy a large estate somewhere upon the 
banks of this beautiful river. It will be delightful, 
in the midst of trees and parks, to build a grander 
Hyde Manor House. Most completely we will fur- 
nish it, in all respects; and the gardens you shall 
make at your own will and discretion. A hun- 
dred years after this, your descendants shall wan- 
der among the treillages and cut hedges and boxed 
walks, and say, ‘What a sweet taste our dear great, 
great grandmother had T 

And Katherine laughed at his merry talk and 
forecasting, and praised his uniform, and told him 
how soldierly and handsome he looked in it. And 
she touched his sword, and asked, “Is it the old 
sword, my Richard?’’ 

“The old sword, Kate, my sweet. With it I won 
my wife. Oh, indeed, yes! You know it was pity 
for my sufferings made you marry me that blessed 
October day, when I could not stand up beside you. 
It has a fight twice worthy of its keen edge now.” 
He drew it partially from its sheath, and mused a 
moment. Then he slowly untwisted the ribbon and 
tassel of bullion at the hilt, and gave it into her 
hand. “I have a better hilt-ribbon than that,” he 
said; ‘‘and, when we go into the house, I will re- 
trim my sword.” 

She thought little of the remark at the time, 
though she carefully put the tarnished tassel away 
among her dearest treasures; but it acquired a new 
meaning in the morning. The troops were to leave 
very early; and, soon after dawn, she heard the 


344 


THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON 


clatter of galloping horses, and the calls of the 
men as they reined up at their commander’s door. 
Bram, as his father’s lieutenant, was with them. 
The horses of Joris and Hyde were waiting. 

They rose from the breakfast-table and looked 
at their wives. Lysbet gave a little sob, and laid 
her head a moment upon her husband’s breast. 
Katherine lifted her white face and whispered, with 
kisses: ‘‘Beloved one, go. Night and day I will 
pray for you, and long for you. My love, my dear 
one!” 

There was hurry and tumult, and the stress of 
leave-taking was lightened by it. Katherine held 
her husband’s hand till they stood at the open door. 
Then he looked into her face, and down at his 
sword, with a meaning smile. And her eyes di- 
lated, and a vivid blush spread over her cheeks and 
throat, and she drew him back a moment, and pas- 
sionately kissed him again; and all her grief was 
lost in love and triumph. For, wound tightly around 
his sword-hilt, she saw — though it was brown and 
faded — her first, fateful love-token — The Bow of 
Orange Ribbon, 


POSTSCRIPT 


[quotation from a letter dated JULY 5 , 

A. D. 1885.] 

“Yesterday I went with my aunt to spend ‘the Fourth’ 
at the Hydes’, They have the most delightful place — a great 
stone house in a wilderness of foliage and beauty, and yet 
within convenient distance of the railroad and the river- 
boats. Why don’t we build such houses now? You could 
make a ballroom out of the hall, and hold a grand reception 
on the staircase. Kate Hyde said the house is more than a 
hundred years old, and that the fifth generation is living in 
it. I am sure there are pictures enough of the family to 
account for three hundred years; but the two handsomest, 
after all, are those of the builders. They were very great 
people at the court of Washington, I believe. I suppose it is 
natural, for those who have ancestors, to brag about them, 
and to show off the old buckles and fans and court-dresses 
they have hoarded up, not to speak of the queer bits of plate 
and china; and, I must say, the Hydes have a really delight- 
ful lot of such bric-a-brac. But the strangest thing is the 
‘household talisman.’ It is not like the luck of Eden Hall: 
it is neither crystal cup, nor silver vase, nor magic bracelet, 
nor an old slipper. But they have a tradition that the house 
will prosper as long as it lasts, and so this precious palla- 
dium is carefully kept in a locked box of carved sandalwood; 
for it is only a bit of faded satin that was a love-token — a St. 
Nicholas Bow of Orange Ribbon!* 


END OF ‘‘the bow OF ORANGE RIBBON” 


345 




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